A Rohirric Betrothal
by The Moonlily
Summary: They found each other in the woods. But what does a Rohirric betrothal actually mean? Sequel to "Found in the Woods".
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** A Rohirric Betrothal

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairings:** Éomer/Lothíriel

 **Genre:** Romance/Humour

 **Summary:** They found each other in the woods. But what does a Rohirric betrothal actually mean? Sequel to "Found in the Woods".

 **Disclaimer:** The Lord of The Rings is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien and his estate. This is a work of fanfiction, written for the enjoyment of myself and others. No financial profit is made by writing this.

 **Author's Note:** Well, what do you know. Here I am, writing a sequel that wasn't supposed to be. I truly believed I was finished with this storyline, but then a lovely reader who goes by the name of **Anon** posted a delightful review to the final chapter and wondered what a sequel could be like, and it had my imagination running wild immediately. So a sequel was born and here is its first chapter. If you haven't read _Found in the Woods_ yet, then I suggest you go and check it out first, as I'm not sure this story will make sense without it.

Though I haven't drafted this very far along, I do have some ideas already and much of it is inspired by Anon's review. If you want a better credit with some other nick, I would be happy to oblige. In any case I'm most thankful for feeding my muse with something so entertaining! For the time being, the rating of this piece is T, but it may change later on.

As for the story I mentioned in the last chapter of _Found in the Woods,_ it will be put on hold for the time being. But we'll get to it once the time is right!

I hope you enjoy this little story, and let me know what you think!

* * *

Another morning dawned in the fragrant wood of Ithilien, and Lothíriel, Princess of Dol Amroth, was wakened by birdsong and the first murmurs of the Riders outside her tent. She had slept deep and untroubled, much as she had ever since the lovely evening in the garden of Emyn Arnen. Smiling, she stretched and allowed herself a small giggle under her breath. Past few days, she had been laughing more than... well, she couldn't recall when she had last laughed so much.

Knowing the King's Company did not revel in slow mornings, she got up from her bedroll and dressed quickly. Hers was the only tent in the entire camp, for the others slept outside under the summer sky. But Faramir and Lady Éowyn had insisted to supply her with this thing, even though the weathers remained beautiful and they wouldn't spend many nights on the road. Lothíriel had tried to insist she would be entirely comfortable under the sky, but her objections were firmly ignored.

She braided her hai into a simple plait and collected her things for a quick wash by the river before the breakfast, which she would take with her brother Amrothos and the Riders of the King's Guard. They had been travelling together with Rohirrim to Minas Tirith, where they would meet her father, and then hopefully, when things had been made official, she would know the date when she travelled to Rohan to her betrothed.

The idea almost made her laugh in wonder again. Éomer, her betrothed. It was still hard to believe, and moments came when she felt like pinching herself to make sure this wasn't merely a wonderful dream. Of course, it was agreed only as far as the two of them and Rohirrim were considered, and they still needed her father's blessing, but everyone seemed to believe he would have no qualms about the matter. Even Amrothos had told her Father wouldn't mind after he got over first shock. Surely he would be glad to approve of their intentions, if he just saw how very happy she was with Éomer?

Indeed, the past week, spent in the sunny woods of Ithilien, had been wondrously happy. Her king had scarcely been very far from her, almost to the point where Amrothos started to complain she was monopolising Éomer's time and attention. But the Rohir didn't seem to mind. He was glad to spend hours and hours by her side, conversing at times ceaselessly and then falling silent in calm contentment. And stealing kisses when others were not looking.

Needless to say, she loved him more than ever. And by a strange chance, he appeared to be falling for her, too.

These thoughts warmed her cheeks and Lothíriel shook her head, realising she was daydreaming. It wouldn't do, for they still had a long day's ride ahead of them. So, after making sure she had everything she needed, she lifted the door flap and made to exit.

And almost stepped on someone's face.

Lothíriel let out a small cry of fright, which was answered by a surprisingly high-pitched squeal from the person she had nearly trampled. Amrothos!

"What in the name of Elbereth do you think you're doing? Why are you sleeping at my doorway?" Lothíriel demanded to know when her brother sat up and blinked his eyes. His bedroll was directly across the entrance. What had got into him to choose this spot and nearly startled her witless?

"Lothíriel! What do _you_ think you're doing! You nearly stepped on my nose!" he complained, rubbing his face.

"I was trying to step out, obviously!" she groaned at him. "There's an entire forest around us for you to pick your sleeping place from, and you just had to plop yourself down _here!"_

"Where else? Someone has to watch over you", he muttered, not meeting her eyes.

"Watch over me? In a camp full of Rohirric Riders and their king himself?" she inquired critically. After the battle in the woods, she had developed a healthy respect for the skills of these men and frankly there was nothing that could scare her when they were nearby.

"Precisely!" Amrothos said and made a face. "I'm just being a good brother. And a son, for that matter."

At last, she understood the reason why her brother had decided to place himself between her tent and the rest of the camp. Once more, she could feel her face growing warm.

"Well, that makes you the only one in this camp who thinks so, because according to Rohirrim, it's well within his rights to visit me any time he likes!" she announced fiercely and stomped off towards the river.

Éomer's riders greeted her with smiles and bowed heads as she made her way, but Amrothos was probably still too much asleep to dash after her. Ever since the morning she and her horselord had made their announcement at Emyn Arnen, her brother had been tailing her as though he was her shadow. She had quickly realised he was trying to chaperone for her. His manner had been quite suspicious, too, and Éomer had wryly commented someone must have filled him in with the details of what a Rohirric betrothal meant. And so Amrothos was following them everywhere they went, eyeing them as though he suspected foul play at all times, and only on a few occasions he agreed to let Lady Éowyn to act as a guardian.

Lothíriel snorted to herself when she remembered the dinner on the second night of their stay. She had sat next to Éomer, and as often as their eyes had met, so had she brushed her hand against his. Then she had felt his foot touching hers under the table, and shyly she had placed her hand on his knee. When she had looked up, Amrothos had been staring at them with narrowed eyes, and every meal that took place afterwards, he would always position himself between her and the King of Rohan.

As such, it wasn't easy to find chances to steal a few kisses, and eventually they had just determined to make Amrothos as frustrated as they were. It had been more fun than Lothíriel had expected to tease her brother by gradually going closer to Éomer and pretending to be about to kiss him, until the moment came her brother interfered. It amused her king very much and caused a great deal of exasperation to Amrothos. It served him right, truly, after the way he had initially treated the whole matter as a joke.

She was smiling to herself when she reached the river Anduin. It glittered in bright sunlight and the woods were green and fair. If only they could keep on going forever! However, she knew they would reach Minas Tirith some time this evening. And then, probably after a few days, Éomer would be leaving – but hopefully not for long.

Quickly she washed her hands and face in the river and then patted them dry. She undid her braid and combed through it with her fingers, thinking idly of the Rohirric braids Éowyn had showed to her. While Éomer seemed to like it when she had her hair made like the maidens of the North, his favourite was when she wore it open.

"Good morning, fair lady", a voice spoke, and as ever when she heard him speak, her heart leaped. Lothíriel turned and saw him standing nearby, golden and glorious. In times before now, she had almost felt like she was looking at the sun when she glanced at him; he was just as brilliant to her eyes, but also painful and blinding if stared at for too long. For she had believed he'd never notice her, or look at her with love.

She bounced on her feet and went to greet him.

"Good morning to you as well", she said, wondering if this feeling of breathless excitement might be vanishing any time soon.

He smiled and pulled her close by waist, and then he bent his head down to kiss her. There was a boldness in his touch, which was very thrilling, but always gentleness, too. He surely knew how to make her heart race.

Éomer did not pull away when the kiss ended. He remained close and gazed at her with warm, soft eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked her.

"Like a baby", she answered, resting her arms around his neck. Lothíriel made a face, "Apparently, Amrothos slept the night blocking my doorway."

He snorted in laughter.

"I noticed. It amused my men very much", he commented and kissed her again. "To tell you the truth, his action almost had an opposite effect. I was tempted to try and enter just to spite him."

Lothíriel felt a delightful shiver run down her spine at this information. She could imagine it all too well – and _liked_ it dangerously much. Éowyn had told her a little more about Rohirric betrothal traditions and the princess had spent the rest of the day blushing, because there was intimacy to their ways she hadn't really understood when Éomer had first told her what they had accidentally announced to his Riders. But when she had later reflected on Éowyn's explanation, especially in relation to Éomer, it had awakened in her something she had not really comprehended before. It was both exciting and a little frightening.

"Poor Amrothos", she said at length, smiling at her horselord. "Then again, I think he has rather deserved it."

"Very much so", Éomer said with a rather wicked smile, "I have absolutely no intention of making it any easier for him."

"Good!" said Lothíriel and tiptoed to get a better access at his mouth. He seemed to like that, and they were blissfully focused on one another until a shout interrupted them.

"Oi there! That's quite enough!" Amrothos announced as he finally arrived to watch over his errant sister. She broke off from her betrothed, but did not try to hide her grin. And Éomer still held her hand in his own.

Amrothos groaned.

"I swear, I leave you alone for _two minutes -"_ he muttered linking his arm with hers. "Are you finished? There is breakfast."

"As you say, brother", Lothíriel said cheerfully and let him lead her back to the camp. But over her shoulder, she threw a wink at her horselord.

Behind them, Éomer was smiling.

 _To be continued._


	2. Chapter 2

Noon was at hand when they reached Mundburg. The great city basked in golden light and there was a sense of business about, as ever in summer months. Air was little too warm for Éomer's tastes, though at least there was wind here which had been absent down the stream.

Looking at the city before them, he felt both excited and a little sad. Excited, as they were to meet Imrahil very soon, and sad because in a few days he'd have to take his leave of the woman riding by his side.

Her face was solemn now, while she had been smiling before as they conversed. But perhaps she was thinking of the same thing as he, and wondered how soon they would be able to call each other husband and wife. The idea had rather grown on him since the night in the garden of Emyn Arnen. Now he thirsted for it in ways he had not felt before.

"It will be all right. Your father will consent", he reassured her, and she looked at him once more.

"He will. He must. It wouldn't be wise to prevent it, when some already consider me your unwedded wife", she said uneasily. Behind them, Amrothos groaned out loud. He was taking the task of guarding his sister more seriously than anything Éomer had ever seen him doing.

Ignoring the prince for the time being, he said to Lothíriel, "Indeed. And if he does, I'll send Aragorn after him while we elope."

His words had the hoped effect of making her smile. But perhaps his attempt to cheer her was more effective than he had thought, for a mischievous light suddenly appeared in her eyes and she lead her horse, a gentle mare borrowed from Éowyn and Faramir, closer to his own. It would do for now as her mount, but as soon as he got back to Edoras, he'd find her a horse worthy of a queen.

She leaned closer to whisper in his ear, and the young king could not help but grin.

"A lovely idea", he told her and gestured the company to halt. He glanced at Éothain, who rode close by. "Captain, take my lady's horse's reins and lead her for the rest of the way."

He gave the command in Rohirric, as he didn't want Amrothos interfering. But Lothíriel was already on ground, and he offered her his foot to use as a step, and his hand to pull her up. With this aid, she was able to mount the tall war-horse and sit before him in the saddle. He had moved reins in one hand and the other he used to keep her steady, while she wrapped one arm around his waist. Though he didn't look behind, he imagined he would have seen quite a few grinning faces.

Amrothos groaned again, though the sound was now louder than before.

"Goodness me, laddie, is something stuck in your throat?" Éothain asked good-naturedly. For one reason or the other, the prince's continuing exasperation remained highly amusing to the Riders of the King's Guard.

Chuckling to himself, Éomer urged Firefoot to moving again. Lothíriel too seemed to have forgotten about her earlier worry. She relaxed to lean against him and rested her free hand on his.

Such was the manner of their arrival in the White City. As they made their way towards the Citadel, many stopped to watch them go, and Éomer did not miss the wondering looks on their faces. The young king had to actively fight himself in order not to raise his voice: _Look at her! Look at my beautiful bride!_ But that of course would have been very foolish, and so he just smiled smugly. Even though the full meaning of this deed was not clear to the people of Mundburg, there was a sense of exhilaration to riding so publicly with Lothíriel, and announcing to the all the world their intentions.

He began to slow Firefoot down once they had reached the sixth level of the city. He had visited Imrahil's town house only a couple of times before now, but he found his way there easily, and the guards opened the gates wide for them. They looked a little surprised to receive such a gathering unannounced, even though – or perhaps _because –_ Lothíriel and Amrothos were with his Company. Before entering the courtyard, Éomer sent one of his Riders ahead to the Citadel to tell Aragorn he had some business to take care of before he could meet his friend.

Clamour and noise filled the walled space that quickly got crowded with Riders and bewildered household staff. This sudden commotion even reached inside, or so Éomer guessed when Imrahil himself appeared at the great door of the town house. The Prince of Dol Amroth saw his daughter sharing the saddle with the King of Rohan and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline, while his mouth formed a quizzical little "o".

"Father!" Lothíriel exclaimed in greeting and waved her hand at her sire. Then she quickly slid down on the ground and threw an anxious glance at Éomer. Its meaning was clear to him.

"It'll be all right", he reassured her and dismounted as well. She didn't seem consoled, but in any case, she still took him by hand and navigated them swiftly through the crowd. Amrothos had no hope of being able to follow, and perhaps he knew to stand back for the time being.

They met Imrahil at the doorway of the town house. He was still looking most bewildered.

"Lothíriel, what are you doing here? I thought you and your brother were supposed to head back to Dol Amroth after your trip to Emyn Arnen", Imrahil said, though he did answer her hug.

"I know. We'll explain everything. King Éomer and I have some news", she answered and glanced at the Rohir by her side, who had yet to have a chance to put in a word.

"Some news? Has something happened to your cousin?" Imrahil asked in growing concern.

"No, not at all! It's not like that", she said and shook her head.

The tall dark-haired man blinked and looked confused, though Éomer could almost swear there was the first dawning of suspicion in his friend's eyes. But even if it was so, Imrahil seemed to shake himself and he looked straight at the Rohir.

"Forgive me, my friend, for being so rude. I'm merely very surprised to receive you both so at this time... you are always welcome. Please, come inside", he said, and sounding a little more like his usual self, he quickly gave orders to his stable master to look after the company that was cluttering the courtyard.

Imrahil lead the two of them all the way to the back of the house, where there was a great parlour that had a view to a private garden. He offered to pour them drinks, but Éomer refused politely and then Lothíriel was already pulling him to sit next to her.

"Well, what has brought you two here so unexpectedly?" asked the Prince at last, glancing between the two of them.

Éomer opened his mouth, prepared to break things gently to his friend. On their way to Mundburg, he had given some thought to how he should explain the affair to Imrahil, and he had high hopes of clearing this out painlessly. However, he was not able to get a single word out before Lothiriel was already talking.

"Father, back in Ithilien, Éomer and I got betrothed by accident", she blurted out the simple truth, and he could only guess she announced the news in such a way because her nerves had betrayed her.

The young king and his Amrothian friend both gaped at her. Imrahil's jaw dropped and his expression implied he would not have been more surprised even if she had suddenly exposed an extra limb growing from her back. Éomer imagined his own expression must be similar.

She hurried to continue while the two men still stood speechless, sounding a little more in control of herself, "It's nothing to worry about. We already talked things through and we have decided to make the best of it. So we have come to ask for your blessing."

Imrahil blinked once, then twice. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Then he looked at the Rohir, who was still standing, as if to check whether this was a joke or not. But the young king met his friend's eyes steadily.

"It is as she says, Imrahil", he stated, only having regained his own voice now. He felt her hand searching his own and then her small fingers wrapping tightly about his. Only her grip announced now how anxious she felt.

"What do you mean precisely", Imrahil said at length, pronouncing the words very carefully, "when you say 'betrothed by accident'?"

The King and the Princess shared a glance between themselves. She made a tiny nod, and Éomer cleared his throat before he began to describe the events back in the woods of Ithilien. He spoke evenly, often turning to look at her for a moment before meeting Imrahil's eyes again. His friend lost some of his colour when he understood what exactly had taken place, but then he frowned and studied how his daughter gazed at the Rohir by her side, and how tightly she held his hand.

When Éomer had finished, the Prince of Dol Amroth sat silent for a moment. But eventually he spoke once more.

"Tell me, daughter, what do you think about this?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"It has happened suddenly, I will not deny that. But Father, there is nothing in the world I want more than this. I have loved Éomer since we first met. Yes, I have often wondered if what I felt was real, or if it was but a child's fascination with a heroic character. However, this past week has reassured me that it is not a passing fancy", she said softly, speaking now with more level-headedness than before. Looking at Imrahil, she added, "You are my father and I will follow your advice the best I can. If you can't give us your blessing right away, at least give us a chance."

While her initial announcement had not been the most graceful one, these words she had chosen well. That was not even a lover's indulging judgement on his part. Then again, he had already witnessed her skill in weaving words, and knew the quiet wisdom behind them. Silently, he moved to stand closer to her and placed his free hand on her shoulder, hoping that this simple gesture might convey that while their betrothal had been accidental, their feelings and intentions were not fickle.

Imrahil regarded them for a moment without speaking. His features did not betray what he was thinking, but though there was some uneasiness in the young king's heart, he met his friend's eyes calmly. The last thing he wanted Imrahil to think was that his heart was not fully in this.

"I know you two must be anxious for my answer", the Prince said at last slowly. "But I need to think about this, and both of you look a little way-worn. And I would like to talk with Éomer alone before making any decisions."

Lothíriel seemed impatient, but the Rohir gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Goading her father would not help them in the slightest.

"Very well", she agreed. "I suppose we both could freshen up and rest a little."

Éomer kissed her hand briefly.

"I will see you later", he promised gently and let her go.

* * *

After a quick wash and a change of clothes, Éomer joined Imrahil at the Court of the Fountain, where the Prince had asked to meet him. The tall Gondorian lord stood looking over the city and the Fields of Pelennor, hands clasped behind his back. The young king paid only briefest notice to the sight below them, and even then there was a cold sensation in the region of his heart. He had not forgotten the horror of those fields that now teemed with life, nor the faces of brave Riders who had fallen there.

"Imrahil?" he spoke the name of his friend softly. Ever since the war, a friendship had indeed grown between them, though they were different in mind and spirit. All this time Éomer had spent virtually blind and deaf to the fact that this high lord had a sweet, lovely daughter. But he was unaware no more.

"It still gets me", said the Prince, glancing only quickly at the younger man, and then gazing out again. "I remember how I sometimes stood here when visiting the city, gazing at those mountains in the east and beyond... I looked into the shadow and wondered if the sword would fall in my lifetime. But here we are and the skies are clear."

"Aye. We have been lucky", Éomer said, looking at the same way as his friend. He hadn't forgotten the looming threat, either.

"Indeed. But that is no reason to forsake watchfulness. Those orcs... I did not yet thank you, my friend. You have saved the lives of two of my children", said Imrahil as he turned to face the Rohir. His face was dark and troubled, but he bowed deep nevertheless as a sign of his gratitude.

"There's no need to thank me, Imrahil. Especially when I already owed you a debt for the life of my sister", Éomer answered a little stiffly. The memory of what had almost happened to Éowyn was not something he liked to dwell on. He reminded himself she was alive and happy back in Emyn Arnen, excitedly waiting for when he'd announce the date of wedding. In fact, it seemed that besides himself and Lothíriel, no one was as glad about how things had turned out as Éowyn was.

"Even so. I have lost their mother, and I do not know what I would do if one of them was harmed. My daughter in particular, who is so sweet and young..." Imrahil said, shaking his head as though in pain. But then he seemed to get a hold of himself again and he looked at Éomer. "It is obvious she fancies you. I saw how she kept looking at you, and how she shifted closer to you when you touched her shoulder... Amrothos has already told me that he has long known of her feelings for you, and I do not doubt his word. He is far more discerning than people give him credit for."

"Aye. She said she was too shy to tell me before. I cannot say I had really noticed her before, which now makes me feel like a fool. If we hadn't met in that wood..." said the Rohir, his voice trailing off towards the end of his sentence. He shuddered at the unspoken thought of what he might never have known, if not for the strange happenstance that had brought her to him.

"And what of this custom you told me about – this riding together? It truly was an accident, then?" Imrahil inquired, his brow knitting.

"It was at the time. Lothíriel was quite upset when I first told her. But when we talked things through, she explained it wasn't because she's opposed to the idea. Believe me, my friend – then I would have prevented it if I had been able. Now I'm glad it happened", Éomer said, trying not to smile at the memory. It felt most foolish now, to recall how concerned he had been in the beginning of this affair.

Imrahil considered this for a while, rubbing his chin absent-mindedly. Eventually he began to speak again.

"I admit the idea of suggesting a union between my daughter and you had occurred to me. I even thought to myself that perhaps I wouldn't have to interfere, but that you would notice one another while visiting Faramir and Éowyn... however, you and her seem to have made such headway as I never imagined possible", the Prince said then, and his words rather surprised the younger man. It hadn't occurred to him that Imrahil might already have given some thought to uniting their Houses.

"It is the solution that makes most sense. I admit I was only expecting to propose out of duty and of wanting to spare a friend's daughter from shame, but she has already proven how wrong I was to think so", Éomer said, suppressing his smile when he thought of how very deeply he already felt for her.

"I was wondering", Imrahil said slowly and studied him with keen eyes, "if your heart is truly in this. Tell me, my friend, is your wish to marry my daughter sincere, or are you just basking in the admiration of a young and beautiful woman?"

If the question had come from any other man, even one of Imrahil's sons, the King of Rohan might have felt insulted. But he knew the Prince was only keen to make sure his daughter would not get hurt. As Lothíriel's father, he had every right to ask the question.

"Imrahil, I know how sudden this must seem to you, and I do not blame you for the doubt you obviously feel. But have you ever known me to do things insincerely? If I didn't care for her, then I would have made it clear, both to her and to you", Éomer said evenly, meeting his friend's eyes with calmness that hopefully would reassure the older man. "My friend, your daughter is a warm and sweet, and it's been a while since I've felt as fully alive as during our time together. She feels like... she's like spring to me, and I think she already has my heart. To cause her harm and grief is the last thing I want to do. I only wish to make her happy."

Imrahil let out a soft, trembling sigh. It seemed like some sort of tension left his form with the exhale, and he laid hands on the stone railings to gaze over the city again.

"I know how that feels. Her mother... she was the same to me", Imrahil said quietly. A shadow of old grief passed across his face and he closed his eyes momentarily. But then he collected himself once more and turned to face the young king.

"Very well then. You have my blessing. I only ask that you are good to her. She is my only daughter and I love her dearly", Imrahil said.

Éomer bowed and gave his friend – his future father-in-law – a grateful smile. In his chest, something warm and joyful was spreading, and what restlessness he had felt due to not knowing how Imrahil would react was utterly gone.

"I promise she will be safe and sound with me", he vowed. Not just to the father of his bride, but to himself, too.

He would not make a mess of this extraordinary chance he had been given.

 _To be continued.  
_

* * *

 **A/N:** And here's an update! I didn't expect to upload a new chapter this soon, but I got some unexpected free time this week and muse was very firm on how I should spend it. So here you go!

So, Imrahil now knows. I guess I could have made it a lot more angsty and/or difficult, but that wouldn't fit the spirit of this story. And, well, like Imrahil says, he has already considered the idea, even if the timing and the quick progress the lovers have made rather take him by surprise.

Hope you liked it! Thank you all for reading and reviewing!

 **Tibblets -** Me and you both! :)

 **Anon -** Glad to hear that! You know, my readers' ramblings sometimes inspire and help me in more ways I could explain! So keep them coming. :)

 **Guest -** I'm glad you think so! And thank you!

 **EStrunk -** I imagine it will be on the lighter side, but then again one can never know beforehand what my muse comes up with! :) And I very much agree about teasing Amrothos. :)

 **Guest -** Thank you! :)

 **EARLWOOD -** Glad to hear that! I hope you enjoyed the confrontation with Imrahil.

 **Guest -** Thanks! :) It's good to know so many people are enjoying the sequel.

 **eschscholzia -** Yes, Amrothos hardly understood what it would actually mean. If he had, he would have taken it much more seriously.

 **Wondereye -** I imagine she is very happy - hopefully Éomer's thoughts in this chapter clear that matter.

 **Rinarwen -** YES. Some stories just demand to be written!

And you're probably right about getting a diabetes around them, or at least having your teeth rot off. :'D

Also I'm glad to hear you like Amrothos! I always enjoy writing him, too. :)

 **Nerdanel -** I didn't think so either, but here we go! Anyway, I'm happy to hear I was able to cheer up your day. :) That's always one of the best things to hear, as a writer!

 **Jo -** Thank you! I'm glad you're loving it. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Bathed and polished, Lothíriel gazed at her reflection in the mirror as the maid was adding finishing touches to her hair. She was getting ready for the feast that was to be held tonight in Merethrond, as King Elessar and Queen Arwen had insisted on hosting a celebration to honour their friend's betrothal. Father had seemed a little bewildered to have his daughter's impending marriage announced in a setting so grand, but the prospect of uniting herself with an actual king was not a small matter.

She couldn't deny she felt a little giddy when she thought of the night she had ahead of her, and so she had seen some unusual effort while making ready and choosing her attire. In earlier days, she rarely had made the attempt to stand out by her appearance, as she had rather stayed nice and quiet in the background. Partly it was because of her shyness, but there was a good deal of insecurity, too. How could she dare to try and compete with the confident, elegant beauties of the court who could crush a man's heart with half a word and a smile?

But tonight was different. Tonight she would stand next to a man whose shining splendour could rival the dawn, and she felt confident. For so many occasions, she had followed him with her eyes, admiring him from afar and feeling she had as much chance of getting close as a mortal can hope to cross the Sea and reach the shores of western starlight. And the game of seduction had raged around him ruthlessly as the ladies of the court tried their considerable charms on him and made their plots how to outsmart others in their competition to get his attention. Lothíriel had known she would not fare well or long in such a battle.

And that was another reason for her effort to look her best tonight. For this one time, she wanted to indulge her vanity, to celebrate a victory she had taken. As Éomer's wife, she would act with dignity and grace, but perhaps a bride could afford a little more light-heartedness.

So she had picked a deep blue gown with sleeves of silver and embroidered at the generous neckline. Made of light silk, it had something of an Elven air about it, as was the fashion these days; the Queen Arwen's influence had manifested in society very soon after her marriage to the King. Her belt was silver as well, and on her brow there was a white jewel in a light chain that disappeared into her hair. The princess had to admit she looked nice tonight, for a faint blush adorned her cheeks and there was light in her glance.

"There! You are all ready, my lady", said the maid and stepped back as if to admire her handiwork. And for a good reason, as Lothíriel couldn't remember when she had last felt so pretty. Maybe she would look like she belonged by the the tall, handsome king's side, after all.

"Thank you, Maewen. You did a good job", said the princess with a smile and the maid curtsied.

She got up from her seat and smoothed her hands across the soft, cool silk of her gown. It was time to go and meet her fate.

Down in the entrance hall, Father and Amrothos were waiting for her. They too wore blue and silver, though her brother's attire was more in line with the latest fashion, with daring cut and fanciful decorations at the neck. Father always appeared in a simpler array, but he never lacked in dignity.

"You are lovely tonight, daughter", Father said with a warm but a little sad smile. It was easy to understand why he would be so, for this was one of the last few nights he would be escorting her to the courts. For he had agreed to give them his blessing, though he had made it his condition they should wait until spring. Relieved to have his approval, Lothíriel and Éomer had quickly agreed to the waiting period - even if they both knew it was going to be more than frustrating.

"Thank you, Ada", she said and placed her hand on his forearm. Excitement was starting to grow in the pit of her belly and she was eager for the moment they would see _him._

Father walked a little too slowly for her tastes, but Lothíriel tried to keep her own pace even as they made way for the Citadel. Amrothos too seemed anxious to get there already, but he remained close by, along with the Swan Knights trailing them. The air of summer's evening was heavy and sweet and the path to Merethrond had been decorated with flowers, as though to invite the guests into a fragrant garden.

The doors to the Great Hall of Feasts were wide open and soft chatter carried outside. Before them on the paved road went other lords and ladies of the court, arrayed in fine silks and polished jewellery. She recognised members of distinguished families here and there, and noted many had chosen to stay in the city for the season. Then again, society had generally been much livelier since the Ring War had ended and it often felt like each night, some kind of a gathering took place in the halls and parlours of the White City.

A herald clad in the black and silver livery of the Guards of the Citadel announced their arrival. Some heads turned, for Father was a mighty lord and adviser of King Elessar. But there were those who studied Lothíriel as well, and she guessed they knew she had ridden with Éomer. Now they wondered what it signified. Had she won his favour somehow, or had the King of Rohan simply escorted her after some kind of an injury?

But she smiled and looked ahead, all the way to where Éomer was conversing with King Elessar and Queen Arwen. As always, it was easy to find him in the crowd. He looked magnificent, arrayed in dark green and wearing his long mane in braids traditional to his people. Lothíriel's heart picked up its pace and she breathed deeply. Here was the very embodiment of summer. And somehow by an incredible stroke of luck, she was to marry him.

Father offered a greeting here and a smile there when he saw friends and relatives, and she too was able to deliver a couple of pleasantries. Her voice threatened to grow breathless in her excitement.

At last, they reached the company of two kings and a queen. Éomer gave her a beaming smile and bowed to her, and Elessar and his lady nodded their heads, their eyes twinkling warmly.

Father looked solemnly at the Rohir and the young king met that gaze with one of his own. Some message or understanding seemed to pass between them, and then Father reached for the hand of her intended.

"Here is my daughter. Treat her well", Father said and with those words, he gently placed her hand in the extended palm of Éomer King.

* * *

She had never been more beautiful than the moment her father put her hand in Éomer's own. He felt warm and exhilarated, as though he had sipped some exquisite Elven draught. He was aware Aragorn was speaking nearby, announcing the happy news to the crowd, but most of what he said went unnoticed by the Rohir. He was far too busy gazing at his lovely bride, and feeling bewildered at the sheer happiness of this moment.

Following the announcement, there was a bustle around them as friends and family came to congratulate them – or threaten, as was in Amrothos' case. But the young king just beamed at his future brother-in-law, and Lothíriel shooed him off.

When the scene calmed down a little, he lifted her hand to kiss it, even if he'd have preferred it to be her mouth. But perhaps it was better not to try his luck with her overly protective brother around.

"You look very beautiful", he told her in whispers and let his eyes travel over her. She was arrayed in blue and silver that became her complexion so well, her dark hair cascaded like rivers of black silk, and couldn't help but rest his gaze on the gentle swell of her breasts and the hollow of her throat. It rather filled his mind with wholly improper ideas that would have sent Amrothos after him with vengeance, but this was hardly the first time his imagination ran away with him while in her company. Did his bride even know how very tempting she was?

The soft blush on her cheeks deepened a little – perhaps she recognised the brazen way he stared at her – and her eyes sparkled.

"Thank you. But you shouldn't look at me like that, or otherwise everyone will think we have already... well, got _Rohirric_ with one another", she scolded him softly and the colour on her face became crimson.

Éomer couldn't help but laugh at her choice of words. When he managed to get control of his bout of humour, he smiled warmly at her.

"I'll try to behave, my lady Princess", he said to her, though to himself he considered he couldn't wait to 'get Rohirric' with her.

"Not that I mind the idea. I'd just like to fit in my bridal gown on our wedding day", she uttered under her breath. He swallowed hard and looked elsewhere; it was not easy to keep his promise to behave when looking at her straight. Oh, his lovely, alluring Lothíriel! She may be young, but she wasn't as innocent as one might have believed.

"Speaking of which, if you do come and visit Edoras before the winter, you should be prepared for some personal questions. The ladies will want to know if they need to make arrangements in case of a baby", he told her quietly. Though her cheeks still glowed, she didn't seem taken aback by this information.

"Yes. Éowyn already told me that I should expect it", she said softly. Then she gave him what was probably meant to be an accusing look, "I must admit, I didn't really understand how... _intimate_ this is in your people's eyes."

"Is it a bad thing? Would you have preferred to do this in a wholly Gondorian way?" he asked her in a lowered voice. He didn't know for sure what he hoped her to answer, but at the very least, he knew he didn't want her to feel regret.

"No, not at all. You're not Gondorian and if you tried to be like one, it would just feel fake to me. And I don't want some false version of you, Éomer. I want _you",_ Lothíriel stated boldly, much to his shock... and to his delight.

It was a good thing they were interrupted before he could say anything. For an elderly cousin of Imrahil's came to wish them well and to engage him in a long interrogation. Thanks to said cousin, Lothíriel _would_ indeed fit in her bridal gown.

 _Probably._

* * *

Lothíriel could not recall ever having enjoyed the court gatherings as she did that night. In times before, she had always felt so self-conscious and even when she knew no one was looking at her, it was still as though she was constantly being evaluated and judged.

But with Éomer by her side, it was easy to feel confident and resolute. He didn't try to blend in with the background – he just _was,_ claiming the space around himself fully and unashamedly. And the thing about him was he didn't make her feel lesser, but rather like he was lending her his splendour and warmth. Perhaps that made it so easy to be in his company.

Up until their conversation in Éowyn's garden, she had always felt so shy around him, unable to open her mouth and just _speak._ But all of that had changed with their reconciliation and she was afraid no more. Now she felt easy and comfortable to talk to Éomer, even things she had previously thought woman would and should only spare for her wedded husband. To herself she thought if her sister-in-law had felt so close to Elphir as soon after their betrothal. It was a pity Aredhel was back in Dol Amroth and so Lothíriel couldn't ask for her opinion. On the other hand, what could her brother's wife say about a Rohirric betrothal?

In any case, now as they made their way through the crowd and received congratulations from lords and ladies, she felt strong and secure. She was happy as well, and – she couldn't help it – a little smug. For they met not a small number of other young ladies who had hoped to catch Éomer's eye and attentions, and she could see how they wondered at his choice. Few of these maidens had ever even considered Lothíriel a potential rival, yet here she was by the side of the man who had been most eligible and prestigious among the unmarried lords of the western realms.

Lothíriel knew she would have to be careful, lest she became arrogant; she didn't want to insult Éomer by treating him like some kind of a prize stallion. He deserved better than that.

They joined King Elessar and Queen Arwen for the first dance of the night, and after a while, other couples also entered the floor. Éomer did not look like he particularly enjoyed the opening dance, though he was concentrating enough to get the steps right – he whispered to her that his uncle had insisted him and Éowyn to learn enough Gondorian dances to know their way in southern courts. She smiled to herself, imagining his frustration when ordered to waltz around in the Golden Hall.

"But do tell me", he said then after a set of a bit more difficult steps, "do you actually want to have these southern court dances at our wedding?"

The princess felt a certain amount of pleasure at his question. Somehow the surety and confidence he spoke with of their wedding made it feel so much closer to this moment than next spring.

"Well, I suppose we can negotiate about it", she responded, whirling before him and then tipping herself into a curtsy, which he answered with a bow. "And you will have to show the dances of your people, so that I may make an informed decision."

"Visit me in Edoras", Éomer said, throwing her one of those looks of his that were so very, _very_ tempting. "Come to Rohan and I'll show you everything you could ever hope to see, and more."

She smiled at him, eager for the thought of seeing his land before the wedding.

"You know Father hasn't given an answer yet", she reminded him. Indeed, her sire had agreed to let them marry, but he hadn't said anything when she had requested for a permission to visit Rohan before the winter. She guessed he was still trying to digest the whole idea of her marrying Éomer and wasn't ready to agree to yet another request so soon. Or maybe Amrothos had got to him and filled his ears with horror stories of what might happen if she was allowed anywhere near Meduseld.

"Hmph. I'll have to persuade him, then", Éomer said and reached for her hands for the following move. He frowned, "Or do you think blackmail might be more effective?"

She laughed so hard at the question, she nearly collided with Queen Arwen.

The next tune was livelier, which he seemed to like, and soon enough her beloved was smiling once more. But Elbereth, he was breathtaking when he smiled! Lothíriel always felt a little weak in the knees when he smiled at her.

At the end of the song, Father cut in and Éomer gracefully made way to him. Lothíriel saw him asking the Queen Arwen for a dance. Maybe Father had observed her growing a little too giddy and had come to save her from the dashing King of Rohan.

"You two look tremendously happy together", Father said softly when the new song began. "I admit I had my doubts, but... perhaps this will turn out all right."

"I'm certain it will, Father. I feel sure about it already", Lothíriel said, glancing at her betrothed, who was dancing not far from them with the Queen, and feeling a warm flutter in her chest when their eyes met. "He's just... he's wonderful. I don't think I've ever met anyone else who is so warm and..."

She blushed when she realised she was babbling and saying things a young woman should perhaps keep from her father. So she let out a small embarrassed laugh before finishing her answer, "I'm just really lucky. I see that now."

Father looked at her with a faint, if a little melancholy smile.

"What is it? Do you disapprove after all?" Lothíriel asked worriedly, but he shook his head.

"No, it's not that. I'm glad that you have found someone who makes you feel this way. He's a good man and I rest easy knowing that my daughter will have someone so worthy by her side. But I suppose I haven't really prepared myself for this day, even if I knew it would come eventually. It's just not easy to let go of a beloved child", Father said fondly. His words had her blinking tears from her eyes, and when the song ended, she hugged him tightly.

"Thank you, Ada", she whispered, as nothing else would suffice.

"Just... don't make me a grandfather before the wedding", he said and his smile became a pained one.

"Father! You have been listening to Amrothos, haven't you?" she nearly exclaimed, feeling her cheeks grow hot once more. "I can't believe you just said that!"

Her sire had the modesty to look a little embarrassed. Thankfully, the musicians were not immediately starting another song, and she was able to disengage.

When she joined Éomer's side again, she let out a small sigh of relief.

"Everything all right?" he asked her as she placed her hand on his arm, hoping that no one would be tearing her away for a while at least.

"Of course", she said and looked up at the man next to her. In a solemn tone, she asked, "You know what I was thinking of?"

"Do tell me", he replied with a lopsided smile.

"That spring can't come soon enough."

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** I have had a truly shitty day, but at least this time Éothiriel cheered me up! So here comes a new chapter. :) This is a fun little thing and I enjoyed writing it, though I suppose an equivalent of such a scene can be found in many stories about them. Then again, I never claimed to be reinventing the wheel, and clichés are clichés for a reason!

I hope you have a lovely weekend, and leave me a comment if you got time!

* * *

 **Anon -** It didn't seem to me like he would be, but though it may not be apparent from this chapter, I think you're right about the betrothal time!

 **EStrunk -** You are quite correct about that. Neither option would have fit this very well, I think.

 **Nerdanel -** I'm glad either way, whether I manage to cheer up or just improve one's day a little! Also thank you for the compliment! I was rather pleased with how I managed to write Imrahil, too. :)


	4. Chapter 4

The morning after the ball, Lothíriel took breakfast with her father and brother in the bright dining hall of their family's town house. With light, polished furniture and blue and silver tapestries, it felt almost like home in Dol Amroth.

She had enjoyed herself last night very much, and Father had been gracious enough to let Éomer escort her back here – though not unaccompanied. Her betrothed had not embraced her under the eyes of her sire, but he had kissed both her hands and promised to collect her next morning, when they would go together to see the markets.

The princess was eager for the moment of his arrival, but before that, there was a question she wanted to make to Father.

So, hoping that she wasn't asking this again too soon, she looked at her father who was just finishing his porridge, and spoke softly, "Ada?"

"Yes, dear?" he replied absent-mindedly.

"I was wondering if you had considered my request to visit Rohan this August", she started carefully.

Amrothos shifted on his seat and made a small sound of displeasure. She didn't look at him, but kept her eyes on the face of their father.

"Isn't it a little too soon, daughter?" Father asked warily, looking at her over his cup of tea.

"Well, I can't travel during the winter, can I? There's not going to be a better chance than this before the spring", Lothíriel pointed out. She gave her sire one of her more appealing looks and continued, "There is so much I would like to learn before we get married. I want to see Rohan and my future home, and meet my new people. And where better to start learning some Rohirric?"

Father expression grew a little softer, and she could tell he was close to agreeing. So she added, "It would be very helpful, Father, if I had some idea of what to expect when I marry Éomer. It's going to be a huge change for me and I could use some help in adjusting. And I do wish to see him before the spring, of course."

"I do not think it would be a good idea to allow her anywhere near Meduseld, Father. Those two made a sport of sneaking behind my back while we were travelling here! And that man knows every nook and cranny in the Golden Hall!" Amrothos protested, sounding like he was the anxious animal mother trying to protect its young from a stalking beast. Truly, for a man who considered Éomer his friend, he seemed to regard the King of Rohan as a most savage brute!

But Lothíriel was not so easily defeated.

"Amrothos can come as my chaperone, and I'll ask if Éomer knows someone who could accommodate us in Edoras. His captain Éothain seems nice, at least, and I hear he's married", she said calmly, looking at her father rather than her brother.

Prince Imrahil glanced between the two of them, His expression betrayed nothing, except for some thoughtfulness.

"I will think about it", he announced at last. Lothíriel held her tongue, knowing that complaining would not convince him to allow her to go.

She was just finishing her breakfast when a servant entered the dining hall to announce the arrival of King Éomer of Rohan. She did not squeal out loud even if she would have liked to, but excused herself swiftly and stopped only to kiss her father's brow before hastening out to change her soft slippers into a more sturdy pair of shoes. As the day was so warm, she didn't take her cloak along, and before hastening out she quickly looked at her reflection in the mirror. There back at her stared a girl with blush on her cheeks and light in her eyes, and briefly she wondered if she had ever felt as happy as she did now.

Father and Amrothos were conversing quietly with Éomer in the entrance hall, but he looked up when she came, and his face was lit by a warm smile.

"My lady", he greeted her and bowed, but though his tone was formal, she saw how his eyes twinkled.

"My lord King", she answered with a curtsy and fluttered over to take his arm, which was readily offered for her.

"Well, have a good time, you two", Father said, his expression holding something bemused as though the whole affair still kept him wondering. He glanced at his son, who looked like a man who has surrendered to his fate, and added, "I hope you won't mind Amrothos coming along?"

"Of course not, Imrahil", Éomer answered graciously, but Lothíriel refrained from rolling her eyes. If this was how it was going to be until spring, she might reconsider the idea of eloping.

But her betrothed sounded wholly unconcerned when he went on, "I shall bring them both back in one piece."

Father laughed at that and sent them on their way – _finally,_ she thought – and the three made their way outside. There they were joined by no less than four guards of Éomer's own éored and Captain Éothain as the fifth. She did not ask whether it was necessary or not, as she guessed her horselord was trying to make sure Father would be absolutely convinced of how seriously he took this matter.

"Has your father said anything about a visit to Rohan?" Éomer asked as they were making their way down the street.

"We talked about it just before you came. He only said he'd think about it", she said, frowning slightly.

"I'm sure he'll relent", said the Rohir gently, though in his eyes she could see that he was just as eager for her sire's answer as herself. For if Father said no, the autumn and winter would be long indeed. It had been agreed the wedding would take place in March when spring was on its way; she thought Father had insisted on this period because he wanted them both to have some time to calm down and a chance to think of everything that happened. She had not objected, though she was impatient. She didn't know if he would understand how deeply she already felt the very rightness of this.

Her fretful thoughts ceased when they reached the markets. Summer had brought much life into the city and travelling folk from afar had arrived to sell their goods and to earn some coin by the various crafts they represented. She could hardly suppress her squeal of delight for seeing such a colourful variance of people and noise.

The weather was in their favour, and so they strolled slowly through the crowd, while Amrothos and the guards followed them closely. They stopped at the stalls, and often Éomer was offering to purchase her this or that thing, even though she had no special need for anything. Gently she thwarted his offers and steered them to the next merchant.

One exception she did make, though, and so her King bought her a white rose, which she carefully arrayed within her hair. Éomer stood quietly by her side, regarding her with a strange look in his eyes.

"You look lovely", he said at last in a low and throaty voice. Her cheeks grew warm, but she was pleased, too. No other man had ever made her feel as pretty as he did. Well, Father sometimes said she was beautiful, but she supposed all children are so to their parents' eyes.

"Thank you", she said a little shyly and grasped his hand in hers.

They stopped to eat sweet, sticky hand pies which had been her favourite as a child, and when Amrothos eyes were turned the other way to examine ornate daggers from Umbar, she tiptoed to kiss away the raspberry jam from the lips of her betrothed. He looked extremely delighted.

When they stopped to watch a mummer's performance, even Amrothos' bored expression changed into a livelier one and he was quickly distracted by the show. In the crowd, Lothíriel had to stand closer to her betrothed, but neither of them minded it much. He placed his arm around her and his fingers moved over her side in a rather bold caress, which made it a bit difficult to actually focus on the mummer's tricks.

But once the show had ended, Amrothos gave them a mistrustful look, probably largely due to Lothíriel's flushed face.

"Why don't we go and get something to eat?" he suggested, and the rest of the company agreed. They had already spent a few hours walking around.

The tavern they chose was close to the markets and it had a prosperous look about it. All furniture had been recently polished, the floors shined spotless, and the staff was clothed in clean, well-made attires.

The keeper of the tavern, a man in his fifties, rushed to receive them. He looked flustered to receive a company of one king and two of Prince Imrahil's children and quickly escorted them into what he assured was the best table in the whole tavern.

Soon the table was laden with food and drink and the innkeeper retreated from them backwards, bowing as he went.

The meal was delicious, but Lothíriel was in fact more interested in the man sitting opposite her. At first he didn't notice the looks she gave him from under her lashes, but when she brushed her leg by his and left it there, he glanced up at last and gave her a stare that caught her breath in her throat. She quickly looked down, but kept her foot where it was.

"Are you all right, sister? You look feverish", Amrothos commented, narrowing his eyes.

"It's just a little too warm for my tastes", she answered and reached for a mug of ale.

Her brother considered her critically.

"You don't even like ale", he pointed out.

"Well, maybe I've changed my mind", she said and took a small sip. "Rohirrim prefer ale over wine."

Her brother snorted.

"Just one week with Éomer and you're already 'Rohirrim this, Rohirrim that'", he wryly stated and skewered a piece of pheasant pie on his plate.

"It does her credit to have such interest in her new people", Éomer said smoothly and reached to pour more of the golden brown liquid into his own cup.

"And I know you don't have attention span to have interest in anything for prolonged time except for your stomach, Amrothos, but that doesn't mean the rest of us are the same", Lothíriel quipped for her part, much to the amusement of her betrothed. He chuckled softly and pressed his leg closer to hers, but her brother scoffed under his breath and continued eating. But the princess looked at her king and smiled, and sunlight streamed on him from the window, making him look like he was wrapped in warm, golden halo.

Something strange expanded in her chest – something so sweet it was almost painful.

 _I love him. Oh, Elbereth, I do._

* * *

Once they had finished their meal and Éomer had had a brief argument with Amrothos as to which one would pay for it, their little company headed outside once more. Lothíriel strolled next to him again, her hand on his arm. She looked radiant today and while he did enjoy spending time with her at the markets, he still had difficulty in keeping from staring at her. Wryly he wondered at how lovesick she had made him in such a brief amount of time. It was strange, truly, for he had not expected to feel like this about the woman he would marry. She was so bold and yet so sweet at the same time and he was bewitched.

"This is nice", she said as they walked slowly through the market, smiling up at him. But then that mischievous glint appeared in her eyes once more and she leaned closer, "Do you know what would be even nicer?"

"Do tell me", he inquired, intrigued by the question.

"If we ditched Amrothos and the guards", she whispered to him with the air of a conspirator.

"He would be most displeased with us", Éomer said, fighting his smile.

"Yes. He would be livid", she agreed and winked at him. Yes, the idea was quite tempting, because they so rarely got a chance to just be alone. And Amrothos' frowning and groaning could get a little overbearing at times.

"I think Éothain should be happy to help and distract him while we make our escape", said the young king. She grinned and Éomer turned to speak at his captain, who walked close by.

"Do you feel like diverting a certain prince in our company? My lady has grown weary of his watchful eye", he said to Éothain in Rohirric.

"It would be my pleasure. Do you need guards?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so. I'm not going to take her anywhere dangerous. We'll stay close to the Citadel", Éomer answered. Indeed, putting Lothíriel in harm's way, either deliberately or by an accident, was an idea that made him shudder.

"Just be careful, then", Éothain insisted, and though he didn't say more, the younger man knew his captain only let them go unaccompanied because Éomer had taken his sword along. He was not going to be taken unawares.

He leaned closer to his bride, "Are you ready? Éothain will distract your brother and keep him busy for a minute", he whispered to her, and she looked at him with wide, excited eyes.

"Yes! We'll take that little corridor over there, and then head back to the sixth level. I have an idea", she answered to him and moved her hand to his. She nodded at the direction she had meant, and he deemed it was close enough; with his height and blond hair, it wasn't easy to blend in this crowd for very long.

As any warrior, Éothain was used to thinking on his feet, and he had already come up with a way to distract Amrothos long enough to let his king and the princess to make their escape. When they had reached a spot where the crowd was particularly thick, captain exclaimed in what Éomer knew was false alarm, and in seconds later, he darted forward with Lothíriel. She held up the hem of her skirt with one hand and the other she used to grip his, and so they reached the corridor. They did not stop, but she lead him a couple more roads before they were breathless with laughter and excitement. He felt younger and more carefree than in years.

"I only wish we could see his face when he realises we are missing", she giggled and tiptoed to kiss him – quite the bold move in the middle of a street in Mundburg. Éomer did not think for one second that any other lady would have allowed him to kiss them in public, and least of all to initiate it herself!

"Poor Amrothos", Éomer chuckled, though he didn't particularly pity her brother.

"It serves him right", she stated happily and reached for his hand again.

"Come along. We still have to make a few purchases", she said mysteriously, and he was happy to oblige.

By the time they returned to the market, Amrothos and the guards had already left, perhaps to search the streets for the vanished pair. Éomer kept an eye on the area, though – it wouldn't do to ruin this escape so soon by allowing her brother to spot them.

But Lothíriel was quick about her business, and soon enough she was proudly presenting him with fresh strawberries and a bottle of sweet white wine. He insisted to carry them, as a proper gentleman would do.

"What now, my lady?" he asked her, gazing at her with a smile and finding that he was very much enjoying himself. Life as a king did not often allow this freedom, which made it all the more welcome.

"Now we go to where he won't look for us", she said a little smugly, pulling at his hand again and leading him up the street.

"And where is that?" Éomer inquired, hoping this place wasn't too obscure or dangerous.

"My father's garden, of course!" she said with a bright smile.

He had to laugh at the beautiful simplicity of the idea. Of course the garden at the town house would be the last place Amrothos would look for them.

"You are ingenious, sweet one", he told her warmly and she looked flattered at his words.

"I do my best, my king", she answered, moving a little closer to him.

They walked back to the sixth level with more haste than before, as they rather wanted to reach the garden before Amrothos would return to report the disappearance of his unruly wards and to get men to help find them. They did not use the main gate, but rather slipped through a smaller entrance meant for the staff. They only encountered a young maid, but a few hushed words between her and the princess bought her silence for the time being.

The garden was empty and calm, with pleasant green shade from the trees, multitudes of flower, and even a small fountain that bubbled away cheerfully. Lothíriel let out a satisfied sigh and then before he could say anything, she was already lifting her hems and kicking off her shoes. When he saw her shapely legs, a sight no man had not witnessed until now, he swallowed hard.

But she remained unaware as she sat on the edge of the fountain and lifted her feet into the cool waters.

"This feels lovely. Come and try", she suggested, and as he wasn't sure he could get out a single coherent word, he complied. Quickly he kicked off his boots and rolled up the legs of his breeches, and then he sat down next to her. And she was right: after walking around in the markets in the heat of summer's day, the cool water felt wonderful. He also took off his coat and folded it down on the edge of the fountain.

Lothíriel gave him a broad smile and then she began to open their bounty. She handed him a strawberry, and it was juicy and sweet in his mouth.

"Do you get strawberries in Rohan?" she asked him and bit her own so that the juice stained her lips. He couldn't refuse the temptation of leaning close to kiss her, and the taste of her mouth was intoxicating and sweet.

"To answer your question", he answered at length, fighting to keep his tone steady, "we do get strawberries, but they're smaller and, I imagine, rarer than here. Mostly, they grow in the valleys where there is cover from the wind."

"Hmm. Perhaps we could build a greenhouse in Edoras, so that we can get flowers and berries all through the year. My father has a few of them back in Dol AmrothI will have to investigate this when we are married", said his princess, speaking of the days to come so casually as though it was already a fixed point in her universe.

"You are going to turn our home upside down, aren't you?" Éomer asked good-humouredly and received another strawberry from her, which he popped into his mouth.

"Absolutely. And because you're smitten with me, you're going to allow it", she said brightly and winked at him.

"Of course", he laughed, growing more and more relaxed. He gave her a grin, "And all the lords of the west are going to look at me and shake their heads as they say to each other, 'there goes the man whose wife went and filled his city with greenhouses'. At least we're never going to run out of flowers."

"Once they get a taste of this, they'll think you perfectly reasonable", she answered and lifted another strawberry to his lips. And what could he do but to receive it? He did kiss her fingers, and took a fair amount of pleasure in the blush on her cheeks.

The strawberries went nicely with the wine, which they drank straight from the bottle. It was a combination unlike anything he had ever tasted before.

"But to tell you the truth", he said eventually, sobering once more, "I don't know if all this is possible in Rohan. My land... however much I love it, I cannot pretend it's like your sweet and gentle country in the south. We have suffered much from the war and it will be years before we are fully recovered. You won't be knowing long, idle hours there, and it would be wrong for the king and queen to enjoy rare delicacies in their court while the people live from hand to mouth."

Lothíriel did not seem disconcerted. She reached for his hand with her own and held his fingers gently.

"I don't expect Rohan to be like Dol Amroth. And I'm not afraid of having to do my part or to live pampered while others struggle to survive. In fact, I don't think I could be happy if you had just meant to make me a pretty ornament you can put on the top of a cupboard whenever you don't need me to amuse you and your guests", she said, once again showing that boldness that had so long been hiding behind her shyness and youth. It made him glad that she was so honest and straightforward with him.

"What if I want to lift you to sit on the cupboard?" he asked her, and while he meant the words to come out humorously, the impact was not quite so due to the overwhelming tenderness he felt for her just then. Béma, he was falling for her so hard he was going to hit his head.

"Then ask nicely", she whispered and leaned closer, and he was glad to take the opportunity of kissing her once more. It went on for a while, and at the end of it he remained close to her, smelling the sweet wine in her breath.

"Nice enough?" Éomer asked in a low voice.

"Quite", Lothíriel answered, her eyes dark with something he had not seen in them before. Or perhaps he hadn't just looked. Either way, she was much too lovely for her own good.

She blushed, as though she had somehow guessed what was going through his head, and she pulled back to eat another strawberry. He shifted away as well, for he didn't want to make her feel insecure.

"I can't wait to see Rohan", she said after a moment's silence.

"And I can't wait to show it to you. It will be a good day when you come", said the young king with a faint smile. Hopefully, their mischief today wouldn't put Imrahil off too badly.

"Tell me about your home", she asked him, and with a smile he began to describe the Riddermark: the rolling plains, the mountains, the first green of spring and the tall barley ripening in the sun... he spoke of rivers that ran swift and clear, of the great horse herds grazing in summer, and sunsets in autumn when air was cool and bright. And with smiles, he told her about the days of deep winter and Yule feasts and the warmth and light inside the Golden Hall.

Lothíriel listened to him with an enchanted expression on her face, making questions here and there. But he was rather enchanted too, looking at her sitting there with the rose in her hair and her eyes shining like stars in the sky. At times she offered him more strawberries or wine, and he was quite certain they could have sat there talking all the way to nightfall, but it was then they were found.

"Lothíriel?" asked a surprised voice from the doorway into the parlour, and when they turned, they saw Imrahil standing there. Even more astonished he sounded when he also called the name of his friend, "Éomer?"

"Hello, Father!" she responded, waving her hand at him. Her cheerful voice rather drowned the Rohir's more sombre greeting.

Imrahil blinked once, then twice. In his hand, he was holding some piece of parchment, perhaps a letter from Dol Amroth. But judging by his nonplussed expression, he had forgotten about it.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were back at the markets", he asked at last, his eyes flitting between his daughter and her betrothed, who were still seated by the fountain.

"We were, but decided to come here", she said, sounding most innocent. Her father's surprised expression now changed into a frown, which rather made Éomer hope this would not impact his decision to let her visit Rohan. Then again, this whole time they had been in the very garden of Imrahil's town house, so surely he wouldn't disapprove?

"Daughter, where is Amrothos?" the Prince wanted to know.

"Probably still looking for us", she answered and remained most unaffected. But then her expression sobered a little and she looked at her father, "We just wanted to spend some time together without him breathing down our necks."

"I was telling her about Rohan", Éomer added and glanced at his bride.

Imrahil's expression softened a little and the tense posture of his shoulders relaxed. He seemed to let out a small sigh.

"I see", he said at length and regarded his daughter, "I'm glad you are having a good time."

"Thank you, Father", she said with a soft smile, and though he said nothing, Éomer felt like something significant had just passed.

It was not much later that Amrothos returned to the town house, thoroughly exasperated with them both. He gave them a lecture on how irresponsibly they had behaved, and deciding they had already tried the poor bugger enough for one day, Éomer refrained from making references to pots and kettles. Nor did he comment on how much it entertained him to imagine Amrothos having a daughter one day.

But once the Prince had let out his steam and was just shaking his head and muttering to himself, Lothíriel offered to come and escort her betrothed to the gates. It was already late afternoon and he needed to return to the Citadel, where Aragorn was expecting him. Deep down, there was a reluctance to go, because he knew it was so soon he would have to take his leave of her when he departed, but he kept this thought to himself.

There was one thing, however, he did tell her.

"Thank you for this. It has been a wonderful day", he said to her as they slowly made way through the courtyard, side by side and arms linked. "I haven't really done anything like this before."

"Never? Not even once?" she wondered out loud and looked up at him.

"No. There just never was time. And I suppose... I suppose it's also because I never dared to let myself care about anyone so much that I would have got a chance to realise how something simple can be so special", he said slowly.

He saw tears fill her eyes, and then she wrapped her arms around him. She held her so tightly, it was almost hard to believe someone so small had such strength in them. He returned it, but with more gentleness.

"You're not alone anymore", she whispered in a shaky voice. And she was so soft, so sweet, and suddenly he felt like a man who has lived all his life in the darkness, and is suddenly revealed to glorious daylight.

"I know", Éomer said and was thankful.

He was even luckier than he had guessed.

* * *

When Éomer had left with his guards, Lothíriel let out a soft little sigh and headed for the doorway of the town house. They would see later that day, for King Elessar had invited her family to a dinner, and her king would be there as well. But obviously a formal occasion of that nature would not allow much time to spend with him, and he would have to pay attention to others than just her.

Even so, she was glad for any small moment, because August seemed so far away still, and Father had not said if she could go.

Her line of thought came to an end when she reached the doorway and met her sire there. He stood leaning against the door frame, rubbing his chin as he often would while deep in thought. But when their eyes met, he smiled slightly and straightened himself.

"You two looked like you had a very good time today", he commented when she came to stand by him.

"We did, Father. It was good to just talk to one another with no one else around. I think... I think he's starting to tell me things he doesn't usually expose to people. And I feel so glad when I'm with him", she said with a faint smile, watching as the last green-cloaked Riders left the courtyard. She thought of how happy and relaxed her betrothed had seemed, sitting by her side and speaking so sincerely of what was in his mind. It was starting to dawn to her what privilege it was to be in his confidence.

"You seem so grown, daughter", Father said in a quiet voice, resting his hand on her shoulder. He sighed softly and looked down before adding, "Very well then. You may visit Edoras before autumn."

With a delighted cry, she jumped to hug him tightly. He let out a surprised little _"unf"_ at how suddenly she reacted, but then he wrapped his own arms around her, too.

"Thank you, Father, thank you!" Lothíriel laughed cheerfully, beaming at her sire.

She couldn't wait to tell her betrothed.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Here's some more fluffy goodness! This chapter pretty much wrote itself and I had a good deal of fun with it. It was nice to just see them just spending some time alone together and, perhaps, get to know on another a little better. I think they are very much falling for one another! :)

The general atmosphere of this story is light (at least now) but I do imagine there may be some scenes with a more serious mood. But we'll see about that!

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Rinarwen -** Thank you! I'm glad you like my descriptions. :) Somehow, he just speaks "summer" to me! Also thanks for the virtual hug!

 **Nerdanel -** I must admit I've always had a soft spot for them, even if they are often very similar to one another. Anyway, I'm glad it made you smile! :)

 **Tibblets -** Fluffy chapters have their virtues, indeed!

 **Anon -** Happy to hear that! Even if there may be some more serious moments, I do think this isn't going to grow very dark.

They are eager indeed! It would be very much like him to announce their intentions in Rohan in the manner of his own people, so we'll see about it! ;)

 **finantheagile -** Thanks! It's good to hear the story is bringing smiles to so many people. :) Also thanks for complimenting the writing. Means a lot to me.

 **EStrunk -** Glad you liked it! I have a feeling most people feel that way around him. At least, it's how I see Éomer.

 **Luckylily -** Happy fics are nice indeed!

 **Jo -** Happy to hear you're enjoying this!


	5. Chapter 5

There it was: across the Mering Stream spread the land Lothíriel had heard so much about. Kingdom of the horselords was before them at last, and she was about to enter it for the very first time.

The landscape was not different from the Gondorian side, but somehow she still felt as though the river stood as a mental divide between two worlds. She gazed there with hopeful eyes, even if she knew it was still many days of travel to Edoras. Beyond those leagues, Éomer was waiting for her.

"Isn't it exciting? We're about to enter Rohan!" she commented happily to Amrothos.

"Hmph. After another day in saddle without a single sighting of other living souls, you tell me how exciting it is", he quipped dryly. While he was glad to see many of his friends in Rohan again, he wasn't thrilled about the task of chaperoning for her. Not that he was appointed alone to this task: Father had also insisted to send one of the older servants of his household along to act as a matronly influence on the young and eager bride. While Himiel had always treated Lothíriel warmly, the princess could tell the woman wasn't going to give her any passes.

Himiel was a tall woman in her early fifties. She had a broad, good-natured face and lovely grey eyes. She wore her brown hair always in a braided bun at the nape of her neck and her dress was sensibly made of blue-grey wool. Himiel was also a decent rider, which had no doubt played a part in Father choosing her to accompany the princess, and having little family left back in Gondor, the maid could easily make this trip. Perhaps she would even follow Lothíriel once she married her king and settled down in Meduseld.

"You have become such a killjoy, Amrothos, it's appalling", Lothíriel said now to her brother sweetly.

He answered her smile just as pleasantly.

"I became exactly that when my dearly beloved sister decided to throw all caution to the wind and act like the most frivolous courtier in Gondor", he told her, aiming for the killing strike with his jab. But if he hoped to render her speechless, he was sorely disappointed.

"So, essentially I became you", she answered with a huge smile.

Amrothos looked surprised and was, for once, loss at words. But Lothíriel allowed herself to feel a little smug, and then she dismounted to lead her horse across the river. Once her feet touched solid ground again, the soil of Rohan her future homeland, she let out a breath she hadn't noticed holding. If only Éomer had been here to share this moment with her!

Once the whole company, fifteen Swan Knights in addition to the two siblings and the maid, had crossed the river, they continued their journey along the Great West Road. August was at hand but the late summer was glorious in this part of the world. There was more wind than she was used to, but according to her brother it was actually very mild.

She glanced around herself and thought of the busy weeks before now while they had prepared for the journey. She had needed to send for a variety of things from Dol Amroth, for the ride to Edoras required a rather different set of equipment than a stay in the fair wood of Ithilien. Moreover, she had spent a lot of her time just riding to make herself ready for long days in saddle. Father had also sent for some men to escort them; fifteen knights was a strong number, but apparently lands close to the borders of two realms were still a little unsafe.

One thing that had arrived with her things from Dol Amroth was a long, long letter from Aunt Ivriniel. News of her betrothal had at last reached the rest of the family, and to say her aunt was appalled was a serious understatement. Apparently, 'scandalous' was the least offensive word she had used in the letter she had addressed to Father, and in fact he had worn a suffering look while reading it. But be that as it may, he was not changing his mind, and later the same day he informed his daughter he would send a strong-worded letter to his sister and remind her of how much they all owed to Éomer and Rohan, not to mention the fact Lothíriel herself wanted this. The rest of the family had hardly reacted as strongly, and most she got from their letters was bafflement.

Eventually the day they were set to leave had come, and it would not be long now they would be gazing at the Golden Hall up on the great hill. Lothíriel could hardly wait for it and she was constantly tempted to ask the rest of the company to ride just a little faster.

Come the evening, they made camp near the road. Horses were cared for, tents were raised and supper was started. Himiel prepared the food and Lothíriel assisted where she could; while she knew how to run a large household, it wasn't like she had ever actually cooked a meal herself. To herself she wondered how the servants of Meduseld would receive her – if they would think her an intruder, full of strange ideas of how to manage the King's Hall. Perhaps they had thought and hoped that their lord would pick a bride from his own land, not get accidentally betrothed to some silly southern princess. They might even think she had tricked him into it!

Lothíriel quickly banished the idea. Éomer and Éowyn both had reassured her Rohirrim would love her once they would get to know their new queen, and if the rest of them would receive her as his men had during the journey from Ithilien, she would have nothing to worry about.

They took the supper around a camp-fire, and Amrothos told his sister and the maid stories about his previous visit to Rohan. It sounded like he had very much enjoyed that trip and was holding Lothíriel responsible for the knowledge he wouldn't be able to enjoy ale or the company of friendly lasses of the Mark as much as the previous time. But there was some longing in his voice, too, especially when he spoke of the glad, free-spirited way Rohirrim enjoyed life.

When the princess retired to her tent, she felt more eager than ever. She couldn't wait to get to see more Rohirrim, speak with them and hear their songs, to walk in the Golden Hall and dance to the music of the North, and fall in love with the land as much as with its king.

She was combing her hair when she heard the first shout of alarm. Something uncontrollable burst in her veins and memories came back with agony: falling off of her mare, the chaos of battle around her, and the face of the orc when it lifted a sword to end her life...

In blind panic, she rushed outside. At the edges of the camp, she saw dark shapes and Swan Knights rising to action as Amrothos shouted commands at them. Then he saw his sister.

"Run, Lothíriel!" he bellowed and she didn't need to think of it twice to obey.

She picked up her skirts and darted, just running away with no consideration of where she was even going. By some primal instinct, the hair at the back of her neck stood up and she knew she was being chased, and from previous experience she knew she didn't want to get caught.

The princess had just reached the edge of the camp when a sudden movement in the dark had her ducking instinctively. Then a spear flew just above where her head had previously been, and a galloping horse emerged. Rohirrim!

Not wanting to get trampled by charging war-horses, she jumped right. However, there she saw an orc, a nasty creature with eyes like a cat's, was coming at her. She screamed.

And then she felt as though something slammed against her back, she flew, and before she knew it she was pulled to sit in a... saddle?

In terror she tried to struggle, but a familiar voice exclaimed, killing all her fear and fight in an instant: "It's me!"

 _Éomer!_

She felt so relieved she wanted to cry. He was here! And nothing scared her anymore, for what could possibly threaten her while her betrothed was near?

"Hold on tight!" he commanded, which order she followed gladly. She wrapped both her arms around his torso and pressed her cheek against his armoured shoulder. Somehow, due to her tight grasp and his training, they were both able to stay on the back of his war-horse despite the pounding rhythm of the stallion.

She could feel him lifting one arm and cursing under his breath, but did not dare to open her eyes to see what had happened – she just held on even tighter and focused on the movement of both man and horse.

It was over in less than five minutes. The force of Rohirrim and Swan Knights combined was overwhelming, and the last orcs were driven into the night by Riders. Deep in the darkness, the last few shrieks died away.

But Lothíriel still held her grip around her king and kept her eyes shut. Now that he was here, she didn't want to let go, never mind the fact it was safe now. She concentrated on the sound of his voice as he gave orders to his men in Rohirric, received their reports, or threw an occasional comment to Amrothos, and its richness and steadiness consoled her.

"Are you hurt?" he asked her then, though it took her a moment to realise he was talking to her now.

"No", Lothíriel answered, feeling a little like she could just pass out right there.

"Good. Let me help you down", he offered and shifted, but she resented the mere idea of unfastening her arms from around him.

"No", she refused and held on to him even more tightly. Because surely those horrid creatures would come back if she let go, and they wouldn't be this lucky for a third time?

"I'm not going anywhere, love. I'm right here", he told her in gentle tones. With some reluctance, she opened her eyes and moved back some way. He looked at her with that warm, dear expression and she felt reassured once more. And when she did, she also saw the blood.

"Éomer! You're bleeding!" she gasped at the sight of the dark stain on his sleeve, just on that spot where the gauntlet did not shelter his forearm.

"It's just a scratch. Don't worry about it", he dismissed it and looked around. "Amrothos, will you help her down?"

She was not entirely satisfied with the answer but even so she let go of the Rohir and instead took support of her brother to get down.

"Did she say you're bleeding?" Captain Éothain snapped, leading his horse closer.

"It's all right, Éothain", Éomer answered with some frustration.

"Get it treated right now. I have seen what you try to pass as a 'scratch', and no one here wants you bleeding all over the place", said the captain sternly, much to his liege-lord's frustration.

"I can tend to it, if it doesn't need sewing. Looks like my tent is still up and standing", said Lothíriel, now feeling once more in control of herself. Glancing around, she also saw Himiel nearby, and was glad that the maid had not been hurt.

"Everything's under control here", Amrothos added helpfully.

"Well, I expect you to let me know if something happens", Éomer said reluctantly, Even so, he did let her take him to her tent.

She sat him down and carefully began to undo the gauntlet. The sleeve of his coat had moist spot half the size of her palm, but there didn't seem to be that much blood.

"How come you're here now? I thought we would be meeting you in Edoras", she asked him as she worked.

"My scouts brought news of an orc band that had been seen in the Wold one and a half weeks ago. I sent Riders to hunt them, but for days they avoided my men, until one messenger spotted them heading south. I knew that you would be on your way and so I feared that those monsters might pick up your company's trail. So I immediately took my own éored and rode in haste to meet you", he explained slowly as she rolled up his sleeve and found the injury. She was relieved to see it was indeed a scratch, not deep enough to need sewing.

"Of course I knew your father had sent a strong guard with you, but you did not know about the orcs, and I couldn't bear the idea of something happening to you", he said, his voice a little heavier now. "I had hoped to reach you before them, knowing they wouldn't dare to get close if my éored was joined with your Knights. But we only got here when they were already launching their attack."

He frowned and looked down at his forearm, which she was now cleaning. The worst of bleeding seemed to have stopped already, much to her relief.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner, sweet one. I didn't want you to get in harm's way", Éomer said in a low, regretful voice.

"You came right on time. And I'm glad you did", she told him and reached to quickly kiss him. He smiled a little and held out his arm when she started to wrap clean linen around it.

"There! All better", said Lothíriel when she tied the final knot to the wrapping. But when she looked up with a smile, she saw the melancholy look on the face of her betrothed. Her brow creasing, she asked, "What is it?"

"Lothíriel..." he spoke her name softly, the way no one else ever did, "Lothíriel, I wonder if I was too hasty in letting this happen. If it was the right thing to do to pledge our troth."

The princess looked at the king in shock and dread.

"Do you... do you mean you are regretting it?" she asked in a faint voice, hardly more than a whisper. Fear took her heart once more. What if Éomer had already grown tired of her? What if he had never actually loved her, but just thought so in the sweet exhilaration of those first days together?

"As a man? Never. If it was up to me, I would marry you the minute we reach Edoras. You are the sweetest thing I've ever known and... and it would break my heart to lose you. But I'm not just a man", he said, and while his words eased one concern in her heart, it raised another.

"Then what do you mean?" she asked him, trying not to sound too anxious.

"I cannot guarantee I'll never take a worse injury than this one. You are going to marry a warrior. Do you understand what that means?" he asked her..

She lowered her eyes and looked down at his hands. They rested on his knees, palms up, and on the left one she saw some dried blood. How easy it was to imagine him carried back from the battle, fatally injured! And how wrong it was, to even picture this strong, vigorous man brought down by enemy blades... she could not know what years would bring, and no matter how happy their start had been, a day might come she would have to send him to an early grave.

Lothíriel put her own hand in his.

"I do understand. My father and brothers are warriors, too. And I know what it's like to send them to battle... and have little hope of getting them back alive", she answered quietly, remembering the morning she had sent them to fight for Minas Tirith.

He sighed and held her hand tightly as he considered their joined fingers.

"And that is not even all of it. Aragorn says that sooner or later we'll have to meet Easterlings in battle... it could mean I'll be away for months at a time. You will have to rule in my stead and look after our family without me to support you", he said to her gravely.

"I know that, too", she said slowly. Indeed, the idea had occurred to her, but she had not given it much thought; she knew she would love him no matter what happened.

She lifted her eyes once more and gazed straight at him, "We are who we are and we cannot choose where we love. As a woman, I know what I feel for you, and I doubt any other man could compare to you in my eyes. But... if you think I might compromise your duty..."

Lothíriel couldn't finish the sentence for the sheer pain of the idea. She had been so happy with him, had let herself believe in a bright future... well, she could give it up for his sake, if it was better for him to be without her, but could her heart ever recover from it?

"No, no. That's not what I mean, love", he hurriedly told her and caught her chin gently between his fingers. "It's just I wish I could give you a life that is always sweet and safe. But as long as there are enemies who want our demise, I cannot rest... or guarantee nothing's ever going to harm you, body or soul."

Despite all, she felt relief. She blinked tears from her eyes and smiled at her betrothed.

"It doesn't matter. I'm happy with whatever you can give me", she reassured him, but Éomer did not seem convinced.

"But what about ten years from now?" he asked her.

"In ten years, I hope to have a few children running around my feet, know my way in Edoras, and have friends to keep me company. I think I'll be fine", she said gently. But her king still had a doubtful expression on his face, and she moved closer to him, sitting on his thigh and wrapping her arms about him.

"We are not promised happiness", she whispered into his golden hair, "and I'm sure we'll have our own storms to face. But I'm not afraid when I have you by my side. I think... the worse fate would be not to live at all."

"... yes", he agreed softly and held her tight. "You are a wise young woman, Lothíriel."

Her cheeks grew hot and she felt something like bewildered pleasure, if such a thing existed. Her brothers often called her many things, but 'wise' was not one of them. But perhaps they just had never looked at her like Éomer did.

"I'm glad at least someone thinks so", she said and looked down a little shyly, as though there was anything to be bashful about with him.

He kissed her, slow and sweet, and what anxiety she had felt before was gone once he pulled back. Lothíriel met his eyes again and felt like she was drowning in the warmth and love that shined in gaze. Ever so gently he cupped her cheek in his hand, brushing his fingers across her skin. In the touch, she did not remember any of tonight's fear.

"I cannot promise life will always be smooth and safe. But one thing you can count on and it is while there is a living breath left in me, I will always return to you."

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Like I said, this chapter has something more solemn in tone. For one, I wanted to write something that would reflect their first meeting in "Found In The Woods". Moreover, it was interesting for me to explore this point of view, which I think has to do with the fact their lives have been quite different until now. And Éomer, being the overprotective fuss he can sometimes be with those he cares about, can't help but wonder if he's somehow condemning her to an unhappy fate.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Tibblets -** Fluffy goodness is necessary sometimes! I suppose I've been on this fluff kick since ALWR, but maybe that phase is a little milder now. We'll see! :)

White rose did seem like the proper flower in that scene as far as meaning goes, but I admit I was also aesthetically inclined - white rose in black hair does please my imagination! :D

 **Anon -** Yes, that is very much where their dynamics are based. She's making him happier than he has been in a long time.

 **Luckylily -** He can't get a break, indeed! :D

 **Nerdanel -** I'm glad you liked it! :) I believe they did deserve a small break from his company. And yes, we are going to Rohan now!

 **eschscholzia -** It's interesting, how some of my readers are saying it serves him right, and others that they're starting to feel sorry for him. But maybe it'll be easier on him now that Himiel is there to look after Lothíriel, too.

They have been quite bold with one another, yes. We'll see how that goes while she's in Rohan. :)

 **Wondereye -** Glad to hear that! :)

 **EStrunk -** I'd say he's getting many long over-due lessons in responsibility! :) I think Imrahil sees the positive impact she has on Éomer, and also how she's growing more confident because of her attachment, and that is probably what made him consent.

 **Jo -** I'm happy you liked it! :)


	6. Chapter 6

After a hot bath and a supper, Lothíriel was seated in a small but comfortable room in the Hall of Aldburg – Éomer's home before he had become king. Marshal Elfhelm and his wife had received them, and the lady of the house and her daughters had not spared effort to make Lothíriel feel welcome.

The journey here had been long and so a bath and the prospect of sleeping indoors seemed like untold luxuries, but once they had reached the town, it appeared there would be no end to the pampering she would receive. Éomer had told her people would be excited to meet her, but now it seemed like he had been seriously downplaying it. Indeed, being the King's bride, she felt a little like she was Vána herself, a Vala revered in this land as Oromë's spouse. If she was just as well received in Edoras, she wouldn't have to worry about Rohirrim disliking her.

She let out a soft sigh and ran her comb slowly through her hair. She was eager to see the capital of the Mark at last, though she couldn't say she had not enjoyed travelling with Éomer again. Going had been much calmer with the elite Riders escorting them and no more orcs had been sighted, and soon enough they had passed into the much safer regions of the realm. With a smile, she thought about the days on the road and how at times she must have come across like a staring idiot, what with the way she had tried to absorb and see as much as possible.

While she had heard her share of stories about the Riddermark, especially since the accidental betrothal, all that she had witnessed so far rather went beyond her imagination. She found she rather loved the green, rolling hills, the glorious sunsets over the land, and she felt free when they raced westwards. Passing by villages, some smaller and some bigger, she would have wanted to stay behind to explore and meet the people who lived there, though apparently few of them knew more Westron than a handful of words. But she also loved to watch Éomer in this setting and see how well the man suited the land – how at ease he was among his own, and the special note that appeared in his voice when he spoke his own tongue. And she had seen the admiration and love on the faces of the people when they spoke with their king.

The princess was still thinking of the journey when she heard a soft knock at the door.

"Come in, please", she said, laying the comb aside and turned to the doorway. Perhaps Amrothos had come to see her and bid goodnight?

However, it was not her brother. Éomer entered, bowing his head to get through the doorway without hitting it. Apparently, he had to do that often here in Aldburg.

"Éomer!" she greeted him happily and got up, dashing to him and jumping eagerly into his arms.

"I wanted to make sure you are comfortable. Do you need anything?" he asked her and glanced around the room.

"I'm perfectly fine. People here have been most welcoming", she reassured him with a slight smile. But then she gave him a quizzical look, "How did you get past Amrothos and Himiel?"

The Rohir grinned.

"I believe Amrothos is still soaking in his bath. He seemed to forget about everything when I mentioned it is an option for my guests here", he said and chuckled softly. "As for your maid, with her I had to ask for some help. But Elfhelm's wife and my old chatelaine were more than glad distract Himiel so that I could come and tell you good night."

Lothíriel laughed softly at his statement. The two women must be good, because Himiel did not easily leave her young mistress alone; the maid had very seriously announced that due to her inexperience, the princess did not yet know the extent of havoc a man could wreak in five minutes.

"Something tells me you're not going to lack in eager accomplices as long as we stay in Rohan", she observed and rested her arms around his neck.

Éomer smiled a little smugly.

"It's one of the few upsides of being a king", he said lightly and bent his head down to her.

It had been a while since he had properly kissed her. Not due to lack of wanting though – it was just hard to avoid Amrothos and Himiel's vigilance while they travelled. As such, the kiss quickly got heated and a little wild, and she was half hanging on his shoulders while his hands supported her from her behind, and she felt like she wanted... wanted things that no gently-bred lady should admit to desiring, and least of all before the wedding ceremony. Oh, sweet Elbereth! There was sheer fire in this man!

Suddenly, one of his hands slipped inside her robe and she could feel it cupping her though her shift. She let out a small squeal of surprise, which at last broke the kiss. Éomer stepped back hastily, withdrawing his hands as though he had been burned.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you", he said hoarsely, folding his hands behind his back as though he didn't trust them.

Lothíriel felt as though one could have used her cheeks to fry an egg. She looked down, breathless and also bewildered at her brazen answer to his affections.

"You didn't frighten me", she said, trying for an even tone. "I was just... surprised."

There was a brief silence as both of them tried to catch their breath and calm down. But the air between them still remained charged and her skin prickled, as though something was pulling her to him. She wanted to kiss him again – she wanted it badly – but who knew how soon Himiel would return?

"Tell me", Éomer asked at length, still keeping his hands behind his back, "do you think you would mind being surprised again some time?"

"No. Not at all", she answered and gazed straight at him once more. She had never seen him looking like he did just then, for his expression was raw and ardent, and in his dark eyes there was such a fire that made her feel like she might burst in flames just glancing at it. _So this is how it will feel like to be his lover._

He gave her a smile that nearly had her jumping at him again.

"Good to know", he said and his voice came out almost as a caress. But then he seemed to shake himself and a more collected expression settled on his features. "I should go and let you get some sleep. We'll have to keep up good pace tomorrow if we mean to reach Edoras before sundown."

"Very well. I'll see you tomorrow", Lothíriel replied and approached him, but only for a quick, chaste peck on his cheek. "Good night."

"Good night, love."

* * *

Leaving her that night took some self-control Éomer had not known he possessed. How lovely his bride had looked, and how eagerly she had melted into his arms! When she had made that surprised little noise, his immediate thought had been that he had been too bold and asked too much, But while she had been blushing and looking a little overwhelmed, her eyes revealed that while she may be inexperienced, she was not afraid.

Béma, it was going to be a long wait til spring.

After he had taken his leave and was making his way towards his own rooms, he passed by Himiel. The maid gazed at him with narrowed eyes, but Éomer offered a charming smile to the woman; hopefully she wouldn't be too hard on Lothíriel.

He had time to meet a few of his old friends from Aldburg that night and received reports from Elfhelm, but eventually he headed for bed as well. His sleep was peaceful and untroubled that night and he dreamed of days long past, when Adlburg was still his home and world was a simpler place.

The morning was a little cloudy, but not so much as to imply coming rain. He hoped the skies would clear fully, though – he wanted Lothiriel to see Meduseld at her finest when the Sun lent her glory to the Golden Hall of the King. She had told him how excited she was for the moment she'd finally see his home for the first time, and Éomer was anxious that it should not leave her disappointed.

He did not head straight to the hall for breakfast, but rather made for Lothíriel's door; he was not certain she knew her way around in this place. When he knocked to announce his presence, her answer came soon enough, and the princess and her maid emerged from the guest room. His bride was already arrayed in her riding attire and her hair was braided neatly for the journey.

The young king smiled at his princess, but though she somewhat returned it, she looked a little troubled to his eyes.

"Is everything all right?" he asked her as he offered his arm, "Did you not sleep well?"

"Oh, I slept wonderfully", she replied as she took his arm and let him lead her towards the hall. Himiel followed suit, and though she remained quiet, Éomer felt like he could feel her critical stare drilling into the back of his head. No doubt she had guessed he had been visiting her young mistress last night. It was bewildering, truly, how very anxious these Gondorians were for their idea of propriety. He had said he would marry the princess and the date was set, so what was the point in being so prudish? It was more than obvious that Lothíriel did not mind at all when he showered her with affection.

They reached the hall, which was already half full, and more people kept coming in. Many of them had been members of his household while he had been the Third Marshal, but others had been brought newly by Elfhelm. Even so, he received greetings from left and right, and the lady by his side got her share. Her smile was broader now and there was no trace of troubled thoughts on her brow. Idly he thought to himself that she was far more natural before a crowd than he felt.

Elfhelm had left the centre spot in the lord's table free for him, along with seats of honour for his Amrothian guests. Éomer nodded at his Marshal in thanks and the older man smiled slightly. There was one of the most loyal men the young king had ever known. He couldn't have left his old home in the hands of anyone lesser.

After helping Lothíriel to take seat, he sat down next to her and reached for some porridge. He offered her this or that thing laid on the table, but she did not seem have much of an appetite. Eventually, Éomer could not hold back his curiosity anymore.

"Really, what is it?" he wanted to know, speaking in a low voice. "Do you feel ill? We don't have to ride today if you do."

"No, I'm perfectly well", she muttered softly and gazed down in her lap.

"Then what is wrong?" Éomer asked, trying not to sound exasperated. "Have I done something to put you off? Was I... did I come too strongly at you last night?"

Her head snapped up and she looked mortified. Quickly she reached a placating hand to his forearm.

"Not at all! You were wonderful. I loved it – though I suppose I shouldn't admit that out loud", she said, blushing as she did. "Nothing is wrong. And even if it was, it wouldn't be appropriate talk for breakfast."

"Are you sure it's not appropriate?" Éomer asked, wondering what this could be about. But nothing on her features gave on what was ailing her.

"Absolutely", she said with a small wince. "I... I shouldn't even be thinking about it. I know it's not my business."

"Lothíriel, please. You know you can tell me anything", he persuaded her, and for a minute she had this hesitant look that promised she might open up. However, the moment passed before he even knew it. For right then, Amrothos plopped himself noisily down to the chair next to her, grumbling something about how Rohirric ale always took him unawares.

"You, taken unawares by ale? I believe it is usually the other way around, brother", Lothíriel said, but her cheerful tone was not entirely genuine. Éomer suppressed a sigh and stared down at his plate. Suddenly he didn't feel so hungry anymore.

Lothíriel kept up a conversation with Amrothos for the rest of the meal, as if to thwart further questions, but he could have told her it was unnecessary. He wouldn't have pressed on as long as her brother was around. It was clear this thing bothering her was not something she'd ever freely tell Amrothos.

However, if she was hoping her betrothed would simply forget about it, she was wrong. In fact, her reticence only fed his curiosity, but it was not before they were preparing to leave that he got another chance of trying to sate it.

Familiar noise filled the courtyard as men made ready for the journey ahead, and horses were brought outside, saddled and eager for the free plains. Usually Éomer was eager for it too, desiring to race with Firefoot towards horizon and feel the wind in his hair. But now his mind was fixed on something else.

His bride stood next to her mare, whispering softly in what he guessed was Sindarin. He hoped she wouldn't be too sad to give up this horse, though she was borrowed, for he had her new steed waiting in Edoras. But Éomer cast that thought aside for the time being and halted to stand next to her.

"Lothíriel, you still haven't told me what is ailing you today", he spoke to her solemnly.

A faint blush spread across her cheeks and she looked down for a moment. Briefly an irrational fear occurred to him that she was regretting this – that what she had seen so far of Rohan had made her reconsider. But he reminded himself of the night on the plains when orcs had attacked her party, and the sheer dread in her eyes when he had wondered out loud if their union was a good idea after all. And hadn't he already witnessed how deeply and sincerely she cared for him?

She did not meet his eyes when she made her question.

"I'm not your first, am I?" she asked in a timid little voice.

Éomer blinked. He didn't exactly know what he had expected, but it wasn't this, at the very least. The thought had never even occurred to him, nor would he guessed she would ask about it so bluntly. Rohan was Rohan, but even without the extents her kinsmen went to protect her virtue, he would have known physical love was something ladies of her status were not supposed to know about before they married.

"No, you are not", he admitted at last, having regained his voice. Being the King's nephew and winning renown on battlefield, he had never lacked admirers among lasses of the Mark; he had not forgotten what it was like to be a young Rider, returning victorious from a battle. It could easily get into one's head. But on the other hand, he had also seen the black side of it. He had lost friends to war, some of them he had held in their last moments, and there had been times the evil of this world had haunted him relentlessly. Then he had simply wanted to forget all about it for a while and to feel alive despite the horrors he had witnessed. But how to explain this to her? What had been her expectations? And did she blame him for not knowing that she existed – that eventually, a woman like her would appear on his path?

The colour on her cheeks deepened and he hurried to ask, "Does it bother you?"

"I... I don't know. The way you kissed me last night just felt like... you knew exactly what to do, while I felt so clumsy. I suppose I'm worried our wedding night won't be as special for you as I know it will be for me. I don't want to disappoint you", she muttered in embarrassment and fixed her eyes on the ground. Once more he blinked. So it wasn't jealousy at all!

"Sweet one, don't trouble yourself with something like that", he said to her gently, resting his hand on her shoulder. "I have no doubt it will be special for me, too. It will be my first time with you, and I have never before felt this deeply for any woman."

"I am very silly, aren't I?" she asked in half-audible voice, still staring on the ground. "But I couldn't help it. I felt so insecure, because I'm so young and inexperienced compared to you. It almost seems like you must have made some kind of a mistake. I know some of the ladies back in Gondor think so."

"If that is what they think, then they are wrong", Éomer stated calmly, relaxing once more. It had been a simple misunderstanding. She could be bold, yes, but perhaps he shouldn't expect the timid part of her to vanish entirely so quickly.

He cupped her face gently and tipped it upwards, and once more she met his gaze.

"This is no mistake, my dear princess. It doesn't matter we are not the same age, or that you don't know the things I do. We have all the time in the world to work on that. In fact, _I_ should be worrying whether my approaching old age will put you off", he told her and at last she laughed a little.

"You are practically ancient", she agreed and humour appeared once more in her eyes. "Tell me, did they already have wheels when you were young, or were those invented later?"

He growled in feigned offence. Then he picked her up and planted a big, moist kiss on her mouth.

"Watch it, lass. I may be old but I know a few tricks still", he told her in a low voice. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. More kissing would probably have followed, but as usual, Amrothos was there to stop it.

"Elbereth, you two never stop flirting, do you?" he asked in exasperation; in his voice, there was a dire suggestion for the young king to put his bride down. He did so, but mostly to preserve the family peace.

But Lothíriel had an answer ready for her brother.

"Not if we can help it."

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And here is an update again! I hope you enjoyed it. :)

As I hopefully have established by now, this version of Lothíriel can be a little shy and insecure at times - hence her doubt that maybe she's too inexperienced in comparison to Éomer. This particular chapter also made me think of an entirely new story thread I hadn't pondered before, and now I'm not sure what to do with it and whether I should include it. I guess we'll see about that!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **EStrunk -** Yes, I thought so too! It wouldn't be like him not to consider that aspect. But on the other hand, he's not a man who will just give up something when he has made his decision. And I think he already cares so much about her he couldn't just let her go without great pain.

Also I'm glad you liked the reunion! :)

 **Tibblets -** Glad to hear that! :)

 **Nerdanel -** Thank you! I always like writing Rohan, too. As for your question, I'm actually not sure yet!

 **Anon -** I'm relieved that scene was so well received. And you are right indeed - without those considerations, their relationship would remain too superficial.

Also, I hear you about autocorrect! I'm multilingual too and it's so easy to mix words up!

 **Jo -** I'm happy to hear you like it so much! :)

 **eschscholzia -** Yes, I rather liked reuniting them in that way, too. :)


	7. Chapter 7

The closer they got to Edoras, the more eager Lothíriel's expression became. Her eyes had scarcely left the capital since the moment they had first glimpsed it from afar, and Éomer had smiled when he had seen how her eyes widened at the sight of the Golden Hall, glimmering in sunlight as it ever did. He wondered how she felt like, to look at the capital of Rohan for the first time and know it would become her home in a matter of months... he only hoped it wouldn't disappoint her, this woman who had grown up in the fair courts of Stoningland.

But when they were approaching the gates of Edoras, a thought came to his mind, and Éomer slowed down the pace of his horse. Lothíriel did too, and she looked at him quizzically.

"Do you feel like riding with me?" he asked her, hopeful and warm, though he knew it must be clear to her how much he desired to do this. And she was also very much aware of what he was asking. It was one thing to ride together in south, where the full meaning of this gesture was not understood.

"Would the people think it all right?" she asked him cautiously. Naturally she would want to know, for this was her fist time in the Mark.

"Oh, they would. They want to see their future queen", Éomer told her, smiling as he did. Not to mention, he wanted to show her off. Like any infatuated man, he was of the notion everyone should see his lovely bride.

In a lower voice, he added, "Though it will seem very, hmm, intimate to them. They'll know this is the third time we are riding together, though we're not married according to either of our lands' customs."

She reddened a little, but did not appear disconcerted.

"Well, I have made my intentions clear, and I want everyone to know I take the matter most seriously", Lothíriel stated, much to his delight. Such assurance would suit her well as a queen. He smiled when he realised she was probably just as eager to make this known to his people as he was.

It did not take her long to dismount and then leap to sit on the front of him with the help of his foot and his offered hand. She took the seat before him and looked ahead, confident and sure.

And so they rode through the city, in that same saddle as was the fashion among his people. Lothíriel kept one arm around his waist as if to announce her own devotion, and her smile was warm and bright. Éomer had hard time focusing on the road, for he was a little surprised how well she came through this first meeting with her new people. Indeed, while most had already heard the rumour, some did seem surprised to observe this southern beauty sharing his saddle. To the end, there had been an understanding he would pick a lady from Rohan to be his wife. And who would have expected a lady of Gondor to agree to do this thing before the eyes of all Edoras?

A measure of that he saw on the faces of people they passed on the way up to Meduseld. However, her grace, her surety in sitting before him in the saddle, were certain to dispose all doubt. Here was a woman worthy of their love and respect.

Finally, they reached the courtyard of Meduseld. He could hear the little gasp she made when seeing the Hall up close and feel her tensing in excitement. Her arm pushed against his back with more pressure than until now.

"It's so beautiful!" she breathed to him in wonder, making him smile. The first impression, at least, seemed more than positive.

"Wait till you see the rest of it", Éomer whispered in her ear, just as eager to show her around as she was to explore the place that would soon become her home.

The courtyard was crowded. Many of the royal household had come to see their new mistress, but whatever they had expected, Éomer was not certain. Had they thought to see a fragile little creature, or a tall, regal woman ready to be a queen? The memory of Morwen Steelsheen would not have faded yet, and it was sure to impact their expectations. But be that as it may, Lothíriel sat straight before him, and when they dismounted and he stood by her side, she looked radiant and excited.

He offered her his arm and asked, "We don't have to do this now. Scýne will have everything ready for you and Amrothos at her and Éothain's house, if you would like to go and settle down first."

"Absolutely not. I have waited for this moment so long and I do not want to postpone it a single minute", she answered, glancing eagerly at the great steps leading up to the Hall.

"Very well then", said Éomer and he smiled. It was impossible not to be infected by her mood.

So they began to climb the steps, up towards the open doors of the Hall. Guards left to mind the Hall were there to welcome them and they bowed their heads at their king and his bride.

When they entered, Éomer was not looking around himself. Rather, his eyes were solely fixed on the face of the woman next to him. And it was worth it, for there was wonder and admiration on her features and light in her eyes as she took in the full sight of the Golden Hall. Her lips parted and she inhaled audibly, and she looked up and down and around. He had never seen anyone to gaze at this place the way she did.

"It's even more wonderful than I imagined", she said to him at last. "I've never seen such a place!"

Now Éomer had to look around himself, too. The great carven pillars, the pennants hanging from high, the windows letting in daylight, and the stone floor of many colours... everywhere, the elaborate knotworks were used to decorate the wood and stone, rich hangings showed scenes from days past, and air smelled of smoke and flowers. His chatelaine had spared no effort to make the Hall ready for the first time Lothíriel would see it.

"I'm glad you like it", he said softly, but in his heart something like relief spread. She did not hate Meduseld! She, who had grown up in the splendour of palaces of stone in south, actually liked the Hall of his fathers!

"Can you show me everything?" she asked eagerly, grabbing his hand in her own.

"Everything?" Éomer asked back, unable to fight a smile. "Well, you are going to be the queen of this hall, so I should do well and try to do as you please."

Lothíriel beamed.

"I am happy that you are so reasonable", she stated serenely. He decided it was perhaps wise not to let her know that if she truly wanted, she could probably make him do anything she desired with a smile and a word. But perhaps she was so dear because she'd never do such a thing, even if she were aware of it.

So he did as she wished and walked her around in the Hall. He showed her some of his favourite hangings and spoke of the events they depicted. He took her to see the throne, letting her examine the intricate carvings made into the polished wood, and did not tell her to stand back when she gently traced her hand across the royal pennants. Then she wanted to see the kitchens, where she made a multitude of questions to the head cook and his chatelaine, who seemed pleased that their future mistress had such interest in the matters of household. Himiel followed them suit, her eyes keenly following every movement of her ward. Only one uncomfortable moment there was, when Gytha tiptoed to whisper in his ear and ask whether the lady princess was carrying a child. He shot her a glare and thankfully it silenced her before Lothíriel or her maid noticed anything. While his bride already knew people would be asking about it, he didn't want her to feel embarrassed before so many observing eyes.

He also took her to see the royal study and the guest rooms, but there was one place in the Hall he did not include in the tour. Eventually, Lothíriel realised that, too.

"But you have yet to show me where your rooms are", she pointed out to him.

"I would love to show you the royal chambers", Éomer said at length, "but the custom is I don't take you there until we are actually married."

She blinked and he hurried to add, "I'm sure Gytha will be happy to accompany you, if you want. But if people see us entering the royal apartment together... well, in that case they will want to know when the baby is due. They won't just wonder about it, but rather expect it."

Lothíriel blushed a rather delightful colour. Carelessly he wondered: did the rest of her skin bear that same lovely shade?

"I see. We wouldn't want to give them the wrong idea, would we?" she stammered. Looking down, she added, "I'll ask Gytha."

"Aye", he agreed, banishing the tempting ideas from his mind. "Come along, sweet one. I still need to show you the garden. Éowyn used to practice on it before she moved to Ithilien, and I think you will rather enjoy her handiwork."

* * *

That first night in Meduseld felt almost like something out of a song. Lothíriel had known many happy eves since she and Éomer had made their agreement, but this particular night was special even in comparison. When she later on reminisced on those hours, they always stood as a shining memory in her mind.

She and Amrothos took the supper in Meduseld together with Éomer and his household. In fact, the occasion was more of a feast than anything, and each soul in the Hall seemed full of cheer. Even her long-suffering brother was laughing and jesting with them. Generally, he was on too good a mood to even notice all the times she reached for Éomer's hand under the table.

Often she had pictured Meduseld in her mind, but her imagination did not do justice to the beauty of this place. It was different to her own home, yes, but there was a different kind of beauty about it than in the halls of stone. Everything was rich and colourful and abundant, it breathed life and warmth in ways rock did not, and she loved it already. This was truly a seat of kings.

During the meal, she was seated next to Éomer. Her plate and cup were never empty and the servants were most attentive in tending to her needs. Perhaps they wanted to make a good impression on the woman who would soon be in charge of them.

Her own eyes were often drawn to the man by her side. He looked to be completely at ease, leaning back in his chair and holding a golden cup in his hand. He was smiling and his eyes were warm, and she knew this night was as happy for him as it was for her. But it was different, too, because until now she had only seen him as a guest in the homes and courts of others; here he was lord and king. While she had spied the natural authority in him long before now, in this place it seemed at home unlike anywhere else.

At times she did look around herself and appreciate what she saw. People especially held her interest, and she thought the folk here seemed more easy and glad than they did back at her father's halls. Amrothos had been right to speak of the joy of living these people owned. Only one instance there was, when she felt a little unsure and confused. It was when her eyes met those of a tall woman. She was easily the most beautiful of all the ladies present: she had voluminous, red-gold hair and striking green eyes, and her curvaceous shape momentarily made the princess feel small and colourless. But the woman's beauty was somewhat marred by the disdainful look on her face, and her stare was cold and hateful. Lothíriel looked at her only for a minute, because then Éomer spoke to her again and she turned her attention back to him. When she glanced at the strange lady's way again, she had already turned away.

Himiel had been too weary from the journey to chaperone for her tonight and she had gone to Captain Éothain and Lady Scýne's house before them, but at the time Lothíriel finally decided to retire, Amrothos was already a little drunk. Fortunately for him, she was too tired to consider any mischief.

But Éomer escorted them as far as the end of the courtyard, and he also sent a few guards to make sure they got to their lodgings safely. She had already figured out he had an overprotective side, but on the other hand, bride might quietly endure things that a wife would seek to correct. There was all the time in the world for that.

For Amrothos' sake, they didn't kiss goodnight, but he did embrace her and whisper gently in her ear, already wishing for the morning. There was so much to see and to learn.

So they walked, guards trailing them through the quiet and safe streets of Edoras. A pair of them held torches to light their way, for the skies were overcast tonight and the Moon was hidden. It was a pity, as Éomer had said; he had told her it was beautiful here at night time. Then again, she would have many more chances to witness it before she left. And after – well, when she came here to marry her king, she would know all about night over the Riddermark.

They reached Captain Éothain's home soon enough, for he did not live far away from the Golden Hall. Guards bid them good night, except for the one who promised to take Amrothos to bed.

Inside, Lady Scýne was waiting for them, well prepared for the task of accommodating the guests from Dol Amroth although it was late. She was a tall, red-haired woman with a smiling face and hazel eyes that betrayed only warm disposition towards the two Gondorians. She did not look sleepy at all, but welcomed them warmly and directed Éomer's guard to where to take Amrothos. But Lothíriel she escorted to another chamber, which was perhaps small in her society's standards, but she found it entirely comfortable.

The Captain's wife helped her to undress, showed where to find some water in case she required it, and insisted her to wake them up in case she needed anything. Then the woman bid her good night and left her, gliding so softly as though she was a ghost. But Lothíriel slipped between the blankets and blew out her candle, and though the house was strange and its smells and sounds unfamiliar to her, she passed out soon enough.

In the morning, it was Scýne who woke her up again and invited her to breakfast. This they did after Lothíriel had quickly washed and dressed, but she was surprised to see others were not joining them.

"Éothain went up to Meduseld to break his fast there. He wanted to give us a chance to talk in peace, my lady", Scýne explained. With a wry little smile she added, "As for your brother, I do not think he will be waking up any time soon. I do not think I've ever met anyone with such gift for sleep."

Lothíriel snorted in laughter.

"Believe me, you never will, Lady Scýne", she said and tasted the porridge, served in a green earthenware plate. It was simple but thick and nourishing, as food often was in Rohan, like she had observed so far.

Scýne laughed as well and poured some tea for them. In a soft voice, she spoke of the plan for today: they would go up to Meduseld and the ladies of the household would give her a more thorough tour of the Hall, especially in the kitchens and storages. Scýne also said the chatelaine, a woman named Gytha, wanted to introduce her to the household members. They would take the lunch in the Hall and then continue the tour. Most of the day would likely pass with it.

With the ice broken, Lothíriel at last dared to speak the thing that had worried her before: "Lady Scýne, I must express my sincere thanks to you. I am aware I rather invited myself to stay with you, and I'm sorry if our company inconveniences you and Captain Éothain. It's just I wasn't sure my father would have allowed me to stay under the same roof with Éomer, and I was desperate to come and visit him. So I rather invented this from the top of my head."

The red-haired woman's face betrayed no annoyance. She shook her head and smiled.

"Please, don't apologise! It's a great honour to us both. In fact, I can tell you there are many in this city who would have been overjoyed to have the King's bride staying with them. Éomer is my friend also, and it is us who would have had to watch him brood through the winter if you had not been allowed to come", Scýne said lightly. Her words made Lothíriel relax on her seat and she smiled, glad to know there was no hard feelings.

After a while, the captain's wife spoke again, looking straight at the princess, "If you have questions, my lady, I would be happy to answer them."

Her expression probably betrayed her uncertainty, for Scýne smiled and continued, "After all, you are going to marry a Rohirric man. I imagine he won't be a husband like a lord of your own land."

Lothíriel felt her cheeks grow warm and she looked down. There were some things in her mind she was curious about, but on the other hand, a lifetime's worth of lectures from Aunt Ivriniel and the books meant to teach young ladies in proper conduct rather tied her tongue.

Eventually, she did ask something, though it was a little shyly, "What is the wedding celebration like?"

"Oh, it is quite lovely. There are certain ceremonies you and Éomer will perform to show your commitment to one another. They will also communicate our respect to Béma and his lady Læs, for their union is re-enacted in each marriage ceremony. But you must see there has not been a queen in the land for a very long time, and even longer it is a king of Eorl's line was without a wife when he came to the throne. So the celebration will be great and it will last for many days", Scýne said and her face was lit by a secret smile. Perhaps she was remembering something special from her own wedding day.

"Do you think I can live up to everyone's expectations?" Lothíriel asked at length. It had not occurred to her until now that she was in fact going to fulfil a role that had been empty for decades.

"I think so, yes. I knew you are an exceptional woman the moment I saw how Éomer looks at you. It was always clear it was by no ordinary chance that a lass would tame that man. But I think you have done it", Scýne said with a lopsided smile.

"You think?" inquired the princess, feeling both delighted and embarrassed at the same time.

"Oh, I'm sure. He's an open book to those who know how to read him", the captain's wife said warmly.

They were just finishing breakfast when Scýne spoke up once more.

"There is one more thing, my lady", she started cautiously, putting aside her empty tea mug.

"What is it?" Lothíriel asked and folded her handkerchief in her sleeve.

The captain's wife considered her with uncertainty that did not suit her features well, until she cleared her throat and spoke.

"My lady, the King has ordered a few seamstresses to help and provide you with gowns for when you are married. I do not suppose he trusts your southern dressmakers to know how to clothe you for our winters, and if I may say so, our wool and furs are superior in comparison. The seamstresses would like to see you whenever you have time", Scýne said. She hesitated for a moment, but then she continued, "Éothain has told me things are different in your land. Because of that, you should not be surprised by the questions you may receive."

"What do you mean?" Lothíriel wanted to know.

"They have heard from their husbands and sons who serve with the King that you rode with Éomer, and yesterday they saw it themselves when you entered Edoras. They'll want to know if you are with child, and if the gowns should be made with a growing babe in mind... in fact, a couple of them have already asked me, as they hoped the King might have disclosed that information to his captain", Scýne responded carefully.

The princess looked away and felt once more like her face was flaming hot. Would she ever get used to Rohirrim and their frankness? It wasn't even like she hadn't known to expect this; after all, Éomer and Éowyn both had warned her. But be that as it may, she needed to make it clear she was not offended. She didn't want her first tentative friendship to be ruined because Lady Scýne thought her rigid and prudish.

"I'm not with child at the moment", she managed to speak at length and she felt like she was probably doing a very convincing impersonation of a beetroot. "I'm not... you see, we haven't..."

She stammered, but thankfully, Scýne was a merciful woman.

"It's all right. You needn't tell me anything you're not comfortable sharing", she hurried to say. "It is between you and him, after all. But please forgive us for our eagerness in this matter. Many of us are just anxious for the arrival of an heir, and the manner of your acquaintance with our lord simply made us curious. We didn't expect that from a lady of Gondor... and he seems so smitten with you, some of us thought there must be more to it than just superficial courtship."

"I understand. And I'm not angry. I know how concerned Rohirrim must be for the continuing of Eorl's line, especially when the memory of war is still so near", Lothíriel managed with more grace than she'd have expected from herself. She wondered if she should have felt very uncomfortable to know how much she and Éomer had communicated to his people without her full understanding. She didn't blame him, for much of what Scýne said sounded exactly like the kind of gossiping and making of assumptions that would inevitably commence when a king was getting married, just with the particular Rohirric tint and flavour. Though she had been younger then, a fair amount of whispering had reached her own ears when Elphir had been courting his bride.

And, after all, it would have been a lie to claim she hadn't enjoyed every moment of affection with him, public or private. She was too much in love with him to care.

"I am glad you are so open-minded, my lady", Scýne said and looked relieved. "Believe me, it will take you far in this land."

She headed again to the Golden Hall with Scýne and Himiel before the morning grew old, once more escorted by Knights of the Royal Guard. The streets of the capital of Rohan were already bustling with life, as people went about in their chores. Many, if not most of them, seemed to recognise the three women, and their greetings were cheerful but respectful. Lothíriel met them with smiles and she answered in Rohirric the best she could – her learning of that language was not much advanced yet. But while most people regarded her with friendly eyes, one sour face she did spot on the way, and that was the same woman as the night before. There she stood, her wild mane even more glorious in bright daylight, and her eyes as icy as earlier. Lothíriel felt troubled, but only until they reached the Hall. For there she saw her betrothed and the sight of him immediately dismissed all thoughts concerning hostile locals. Éomer met them on the terrace as he was striding outside, arrayed in a green tunic and dark brown breeches, his sword on his hip. With him came Gytha, his chatelaine, though her step was not as light as his. A smile lit up his face when he saw the three women and he came straight to his bride.

"Good morning, sweet one. Did you sleep well?" he asked, resting his hand on her shoulder but not touching her further – Himiel was watching, after all.

"Very well, thank you. Lady Scýne has been most welcoming", said Lothíriel and she glanced warmly at the red-haired woman.

"I'm glad", he said and kissed her brow briefly. "Have a pleasant day, then. And don't let Gytha wear you down."

"I'll see you at dinner", she told him with a smile, and his answering grin was so taking she felt suddenly weak in the knees.

"Off you go, charmer!" Gytha shooed him off, making Éomer chuckle under his breath. Lightly he leaped down the steps, whistling as he went. Both Rohirric women looked after him with some wonder on their faces.

"Béma, I can't remember when I last saw him looking so happy", Gytha commented softly.

"Aye. Éothain was right", Scýne added for her part, looking very pleased. But before Lothíriel had a chance to grow terribly embarrassed, the two women escorted her inside the Hall.

The morning passed by swiftly as the ladies showed her around in Meduseld. They went again to the kitchens, where preparations for the day's meals were in full swing. Here a pair of maids were swiftly peeling potatoes, and there a tall woman with the biggest hands she had ever seen was pulling out what looked like a large pie from the ovens. Gytha showed her the pantry where the more valuable foodstuffs were stored; there was even a small cabin for spices, though the chatelaine apologetically stated their supply was very meagre.

"Don't worry about it. I know a few reliable merchants back in Dol Amroth. I think I should be able to form a very reasonable business relationship with them, and make sure you will never go short on spices again", Lothíriel reassured the woman, and this conversation swiftly brought her a multitude of ideas of how she could bring a bit of the wonders of the south into this court. In moderate fashion, of course – she didn't feel like Rohirrim would appreciate her turning everything upside down the minute she became the queen.

After the kitchens, Gytha and Scýne showed her around in storages of the Hall, representing her with linens and fabrics, hangings and furs, and countless other things that made up the wealth of the household. She met servants and guards and a few of the trusted men of the King's Council, along with their kinswomen who had insisted to come and visit the Hall – and get a glimpse of their lord's intended. A pair of them even went as far as tagging along for the rest of the day, and so Lothíriel came to meet Leoflaed, widow of Háma, a handsome woman with sad but wise eyes. Few of them tried to make the pretension of coming to the Hall for other purpose than of meeting her, and some went as far as to touch her hair and to marvel at the fabric of her gown. To her surprise, the question she was expecting was not made, but soon enough she observed that Scýne seemed to be moderating the conversation around her, and every new person to approach was first addressed to in Rohirric before they got a chance to talk to Lothíriel.

Soon enough it was lunchtime and Gytha suggested they take it in the Queen's Solar, which had been recently cleaned and aired. Scýne made some excuse of having to check on Amrothos and Leoflaed spoke of going to the markets, but the chatelaine smiled wryly when they had gone and said the two women simply wanted to give them a chance to get to know one another. Himiel too left them alone; it seemed that she had already approved of Gytha as a sufficient guardian for her mistress.

The solar was bare and unadorned, though it seemed like it could be made very nice with some effort. There was a fireplace laid with many-coloured stones, the few pieces of furniture were just as beautifully made as elsewhere in the Hall, and windows were made of stained glass – courtesy of Morwen Queen long ago. Gytha was making some small talk on how it had been left so for a long time, but that she hoped it would please Lothíriel once she got a chance to furnish it according to her liking. The princess conformed to this, until at last the older woman looked straight at her with a discerning look.

"My lady, I assume this question has already been made to you, but I'm afraid I must ask it as well, especially since Éomer himself only gave me glares when I inquired him", she started, and her words rather betrayed her intent. Lothíriel swallowed hard and the woman before her asked, "Lady Princess, are you with child?"

"No, I'm not", said the younger woman so quickly that the words more or less tumbled at each other.

"I see. I simply wanted to know because I'll be in charge of planning the wedding feast, and it would have been terribly embarrassing if something I ordered put you off. Some women get so sensitive to scents while bearing a child", Gytha explained warmly, without a trace of embarrassment. Then again, the princess knew not to expect such from her.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that", she managed to say in a thin little voice.

"Very good. What a thing it would be, to get sick in your own wedding feast! It almost happened to me when I married my Heorstan many years ago. I was two months along and I nearly threw up in the front of my mother-in-law, as I couldn't stand the smell of lamb at the time!" Gytha said and laughed a little. While Lothíriel could imagine the actual situation being truly mortifying, years had indeed made it a fond memory that made the chatelaine laugh rather than cringe. The woman went on, "Though, of course, you won't have the trouble of having to deal with that. Éomer has no inquisitive family members, eager to meddle in your and his private business. Then again, by all accounts his lady mother was the kindest woman who ever lived."

The earlier mirth in Gytha's voice was gone by the end of her statement. It made Lothíriel grow more sombre, too.

"I've thought about that. He is... there is something... sometimes I sense this loneliness about him", she said carefully at length. She remembered a talk they had shared back in Éowyn's garden, just before the fateful moment he had first revealed to her what riding together meant. He had said he had lost almost all of his family to war...

"No wonder, sweet lady. It was so hard for him when his sister left. Of course he tried to hide it, but I could tell. Trying to fulfill the role that wasn't supposed to be his, and do it all on his own... that poor lad has seen much sadness and hardship in his life", Gytha said quietly now. Quickly she brushed an errant tear from the corner of her eye and she smiled, though her eyes still glistened. Lothíriel tried to think of something to say but came up with nothing. She had known Gytha had worked in Meduseld for many years – in fact, she had started here soon after Éomer and Éowyn had come to stay with their uncle. But the princess had not realised the woman held something so warm and affectionate for the two.

Having collected herself again, Gytha spoke again, "So please, try to be patient, even if it sometimes feels like us here in Edoras are poking our noses too close and deep. It's just he's dearly beloved by his friends and people, and those of us who have seen him grow into a man are anxious for his happiness."

She assumed a stern, sharp look and met Lothíriel's eyes straight.

"Be good to him, lady. He hides it well but there are scars behind that resolute face. If you add to those scars, you will not find yourself an easy life here", she said in a low, grave voice. Lothíriel wondered what Éomer would have said if he knew how this small, greying woman defended him as though she were a wolf mother. Perhaps he knew but never said a word.

"I understand. And you needn't worry that I'm indifferent in that matter. For I already loved him when he considered me nothing but the quiet little sister of his friends", Lothíriel said softly and thought about how glad it made her feel when she saw her king smile. But he did not speak that out loud.

Gytha's face mellowed and she smiled warmly once more.

"Oh, I never thought that you are, my lady. You know, I did see you two when you arrived yesterday, how you looked at him and he at you, and since that moment you have had my trust", she stated, and with that, the matter was settled between them.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And we have an update! I hope you enjoyed it. :)

Lothíriel's conversation with Gytha close to the ending of the chapter was indeed inspired by Anon's original review on the last chapter of _Found in the Woods._ I hope it is all to your liking!

It also appears that the new story thread that had occurred to me and which I mentioned in the last chapter is now going to actually happen. It's also the reason I changed this story's genre.

Thank you for reading and reviewing! All your comments are most welcome. :)

* * *

 **EStrunk -** I think he would be so indeed. I don't think he can stand it for long if he feels like someone he cares about is not all right. And yes, now that his lady friends have decided that his bride is okay, they should be glad to help out! ;)

 **Anon -** Good points! I think he has enough sense to realise that her affection is not just given, but that to make things work, he needs to do his part. And somehow, in all my stories I haven't been able to imagine Éomer as being or acting superior towards her - at least not intentionally.

 **Rinarwen -** It seems to happen with my latest stories more often than with earlier ones. I mean, with ALTE I always knew where I was going and all the plot threads were pretty defined in my head early on.

Also I'm happy you liked those little moments! :)

 **Jo -** Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying this. :)

 **Nerdanel -** Thank you! I'm glad to hear that. :) I am very fond of those two as well! :D


	8. Chapter 8

After a busy day, Éomer breathed deeply as he took seat in the King's table for supper. It was surprising how many things his advisers could come up with when he was away even for such a short time. Often he appreciated the opportunity to bury himself in matters of the realm, but right now he would just have preferred to be as any young, recently betrothed man.

He had a moment to wonder if Gytha and the ladies had decided to keep his bride to themselves, when at last their company appeared. The chatelaine was there with Lothíriel, as were Scýne and a group of other women of the household. Éomer smiled to himself; they looked a bit like a flock of birds with bright feathers. But his princess stood out with her raven hair, and he thought to himself if she felt very out of place here.

She smiled when she came to the dais, and Éomer got up on his feet to pull out a chair for her next to his own seat. She quickly tiptoed to kiss his cheek and then settled down with a similar little huff as he had made before. Himiel stood close by, as though she didn't trust the bridegroom to keep his hands to himself even in the very feasting hall of his home.

"Did the ladies keep you very busy?" he asked Lothíriel with a fond smile. He knew how excited some of them had been to meet his bride; Gytha especially had much looked forward to her visit.

"Oh, they were perfectly nice. There's just so much to learn and to see, and it's all a little overwhelming", Lothíriel responded and sipped her wine. Usually, the drink was not served in his table, except for when his southern friends were visiting Edoras.

"I can imagine", Éomer agreed and pushed the basket of fresh bread closer to her. "I keep forgetting how foreign all this must be for you."

"It's not that strange, actually. If I've learned anything, it's that... people are always people, no matter where you go", she said thoughtfully and considered the dish before her. She glanced at him with a smile, "Gytha spoke very warmly of you. I didn't know that she regards you so fondly."

"She only had one daughter, who was full grown when Gytha came to work in Meduseld. She had already given up hope of having more children... I suppose that's why she took such interest in Éowyn and I. We were a pair of orphans, and she a mother without a child to take care of..." Éomer said in quiet tones, recalling those days long past with some bittersweet fondness. Sometimes, he rather felt he would have turned out much worse if Gytha hadn't been there.

"I see. It explains a lot", Lothíriel mused, brushing his hand gently with her own. She looked at him again, "She also showed me your rooms."

"Did you like the royal chambers?" he wanted to know. He wasn't sure why it seemed important, but he was eager that she would approve of the apartment they would share together.

"Yes, I did. It's so cozy and warm, I felt like home already. The furniture here is so beautiful! The details your carpenters are able to carve is just astonishing. And there are so many colours, I rather feel like I have lived in the middle of grey until now", she said with a large smile. But then her expression became thoughtful, "You don't spend much time in your rooms, do you?"

Should he be surprised that she had noticed? It was true at any rate. He often felt quite lonely in those rooms, and preferred the noise of the Hall to the silent, empty apartment.

"No, I can't say that I do. But I imagine that should change when you are here for good", he told her softly, reaching for her hand on the table. Himiel cleared her throat, but Éomer let his hand linger for a few moments more before pulling it back again. A soft blush adorned Lothíriel's cheeks.

With a smile, he continued, "In any case, feel free to bring anything you want from Dol Amroth. And if you find anything here that pleases your eye, then just say the word and I'll have the ladies refurnish it for you."

"I'm not going to take over it, dear heart. It's your own, too", she pointed out. Then she gave him a look of feigned severity, "If you keep this up, there is a fair chance of you spoiling me silly."

"A man has every right to spoil his wife", he announced piously, making her laugh.

He would have preferred her company alone, but it was then Amrothos arrived and joined them. However the Prince had spent the day, Éomer did not know. But he guessed his friend had been paying visits to his friends in Edoras.

Perhaps some free time away from his duty as a chaperone had cheered him up, for after dinner Amrothos didn't protest when Éomer offered to escort them to Éothain's house, and he even walked a little way back behind him and Lothíriel, allowing the two some privacy. They strolled slowly arm in arm, and she leaned against him. Often she looked up with bright eyes and he felt like a man enchanted.

"I hope the ladies did not make you feel very awkward today", he said at length, glancing at his bride. "I tried to tell them you're not like the women of this land, and that you aren't so well accustomed to personal questions from practical strangers."

"It's fine. They were courteous – after their own fashion. It's true their manner was unlike what I'm familiar with, but I was prepared for it", she answered evenly, looking ahead and down the road.

"Still", Éomer said with a small sigh, "You must know I would have done this properly, if we had..."

He didn't get to finish the sentence. She spoke up suddenly: "But would you have noticed me?"

Quickly he looked at her and saw that doubtful, insecure look on her features that he was starting to know by now. He also felt the abrupt need to chase it away.

"Dear heart, you must not think like that. I have been a blind fool for so long, and... maybe that's why someone, Béma or Læs, decided that I needed a little push in the right direction. And I'm glad it happened. It finally opened my eyes", he told her solemnly. She still seemed a little unsure, and so he went on, "I do not regret a single moment we've been together. It is clear I'm not the only one who's glad that you're here. Éothain won't stop congratulating me and if Gytha could grow any more pleased, she would burst. Believe me, they are hard people to convince, but if they are so sure, then what is there to doubt? This is real, Lothíriel. I am yours to keep."

At last, her expression softened. She looked down momentarily, but when she met his gaze again, she seemed sheepish.

"Forgive me. I try not to be such a silly goose – I know you deserve better. Just... be patient with me", said his princess in a quiet voice.

"You are not silly or a goose, Lothíriel. Like I said, I'm the fool here", he said firmly, and at last she smiled a little. She held his arm more tightly and he knew she was reassured again.

Close to Éothain and Scýne's home, he looked at her once more.

"I'm sorry we couldn't spend more time together today", he said at length, gazing at his bride. "I'll try to get away from my advisers tomorrow and take you riding, if you'd like that."

"I would enjoy it very much, yes", she said gladly as a sweet little smile blossomed on her features.

"Then it is settled. Come and meet me tomorrow after breakfast, and I'll take you out to the plains. I'd much like to show you the lands around Edoras", he said, hiding his grin; tomorrow would also be a perfect time to give her a very special present.

"That I will do!" Lothíriel said warmly. In her eyes, there was already an eager look.

After a quick kiss and an embrace, he took his leave of her, telling her good night before going. She and her brother vanished into his captain's home and Éomer himself turned again uphill. He too was anxious for the morning, and to seeing Lothíriel's reaction when she received his gift.

It was entirely likely these thoughts would have preoccupied his mind for the rest of the night, hadn't his eyes then fallen on a familiar face. Aelfrun stood there, half in shadow and looking like she had long expected him. It was months since he had last seen this woman and he had not much thought about her, especially since his fateful trip to Emyn Arnen. Suddenly, he recalled her speaking of visiting her kin in Eastfold when they had last happened upon one another in late May.

Aelfrun was a striking woman: her hair was voluminous mass of red-gold curls that almost seemed to have a shine of their own even in moonlight, she was tall and blessed with curves that any hot-blooded male might find themselves staring at, and her face was very fair. Her temper was fierce, too, and her tongue could be as sharp as a spear-head. She was just the kind of woman he had been prone to attach himself as a younger and more foolish man.

He opened his mouth to greet her, but she spoke before he could.

"You can't be serious", she said in a cool, unimpressed voice.

"Good evening to you as well, Aelfrun", he replied, slowing down his pace only a little. In the back of his head, a small voice was anxiously telling him that he would have to be very, very careful with this woman.

She adjusted her own pace to his – she could do it with more ease than most women.

"Have you lost your mind?" she demanded to know.

"I really have no idea what you are talking about", Éomer said calmly, glancing at her only very briefly.

Aelfrun snorted at his answer.

"Really! Was that a child or a woman you were escorting there? _That_ is supposed to become our queen?" she asked him cuttingly.

It would have been a lie to say he was surprised by her saying this to him. He had not expected it, but neither was he astonished to receive it from her. Of all the people in the Mark, Aelfrun was perhaps the most likely to voice her displeasure at his betrothal. All the same, it was not welcome, and Lothíriel surely did not deserve such contempt from someone who had not even met her properly.

As such, Éomer directed a glare at the woman striding by his side.

"I will not tolerate you mocking her, especially when she has done nothing to earn your resentment", he told her in a voice that held a dire warning to mind what she said next.

"A Gondorian, Éomer! What does she know of Rohirrim? You know there are those who had hoped – who _expected_ – you to find a queen in your own land", Aelfrun said, speaking as though had done a great ill.

He cast her a sharp look.

"Some, or just you, Aelfrun?" he asked her with some irritation. A less composed person might have blushed at this accusation, but not her. Her expression remained collected.

"You are making a mistake", she told him firmly.

"You couldn't be more wrong", Éomer replied, halting at last to look straight at her. He leaned closer and regarded her with one of his more threatening looks when he spoke in a low, warning tone, "This is none of your business, Aelfrun. Stay away from her."

For a moment they stared at one another, and Aelfrun's expression was as defiant as it was unconvinced. He suppressed a sigh and moved back again.

"She's a sweet, amiable woman who never wished ill for anybody. And if anyone should ever bring her any harm or grief, then that person will find just how full of wrath I can be when provoked", Éomer said in a low, serious tone to the woman standing before him.

Then he turned away, heading for the Golden Hall while he still had his temper in check.

Something told him he was not going to have a peaceful night.

* * *

Despite herself, Lothíriel feared to the last minute the possibility that something would rise and thus prevent Éomer from taking her to a ride. Demands on his time were numerous and often unexpected, and so she felt a little apprehensive when she dressed in a riding attire borrowed from Scýne, and braided her hair neatly. She reminded herself that as his wife, she would have to get used to sharing him with the realm, and while he was warm and affectionate towards her without an exception, she knew he wouldn't always be there to shower her with his attention.

When she arrived at the courtyard of Meduseld, Éomer was already there, and stablehands were leading out horses – his own magnificent grey, Amrothos' horse, and a lovely black mare with a white sock on each foot. Relief burst in her chest when she saw her king there and knew that her fears had been in vain, and he would indeed spend some time with her today. When he saw her, his eyes lit up, and she thought she saw something relieved in them. But why should that be?

"Good morning!" he greeted them and came to her, kissing her brow and resting an arm around her shoulders; he did it quickly enough to appease to her chaperone, though she would have preferred a much longer kiss and a proper embrace.

"Good morning to you as well", she spoke softly, looking at the smiling face of her dear horselord and feeling weak in the knees. He was dangerously handsome when he looked so cheerful and she wondered how many ladies before her had fallen for his irresistible charms.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked her eagerly. Almost he seemed like a man younger than his nine and twenty years.

"Yes, I am!" Lothíriel said and felt just as excited to race over the hills she had only admired while travelling here.

"Then come and let me introduce you to someone", he said, pulling her gently by hand to the dark-coated mare. "This here is Moonmaid. She's yours now."

The horse prickled her ears when she heard her name mentioned. She was beautiful indeed, with intelligent eyes and clean, graceful limbs. On her forehead, there was a round, white spot, like the Moon in in night sky. This steed could easily compete with the finest horses her father had in his stables.

"She's mine? Are you joking?" Lothíriel asked in wonder and glanced between him and the animal.

"Of course not. The Queen of Rohan should not go without a horse, don't you agree?" he said and reached to pat Moonmaid's neck. "She's from my own herd, for I chose her for you as soon as I had returned from Mundburg. The future Lady of the Mark should have nothing but the best."

"Thank you!" she exclaimed joyfully and leaped to hug him. Éomer let out a soft laugh and caught her, looking very pleased to have brought her such delight. She knew this was a kingly gift, even for the bride of the lord of this land; she was very well aware that the herds of Rohirrim had not yet recovered from the war. Many a good steed had died on the fields of Pelennor and their loss would take several more years to redeem.

"Can I get one too?" Amrothos asked hopefully. He had stepped closer as well to get a look at the beautiful mare, and his expression betrayed his longing.

"Only if you marry me, and the position of the Queen of the Mark is already reserved for another", Éomer said lightly, resting his arm around Lothíriel's shoulder. She giggled at his statement.

"Yes, brother. Get in line!" Lothíriel quipped, breathless with laughter.

"You two are ridiculous, did you know that?" Amrothos announced indignantly and moved over to his own steed. But she exchanged a grin with her betrothed, and without further ado, he helped her to mount her new steed.

They kept up a moderate pace as they rode through the city, perhaps both to let her get accustomed to Moonmaid and to give her a chance to look around. When they had arrived the other day, she had been so in the heat of the moment that she scarcely recalled more than the faces of many people and the road before them. But now she was able to appreciate the beautiful craftsmanship of Rohirrim and their skill in working with wood. She also noted their weavers and dressmakers seemed to be very skilled in dyeing the cloth they wore, for people wore many colours and delighted in intricate embroideries that echoed the symbols and frames carved in wood. Hopefully, the dressmakers she was to see for her own new wardrobe wouldn't mind her asking a long list of questions.

Eventually, they rode out of the gate of Edoras, and now Éomer, who had been riding by her side, suggested them to go a little faster. He remained close by, giving her instructions when she needed it and speaking to her about Rohirric horses. He was a patient and wise teacher, helping her to get more and more at ease with Moonmaid, and though she knew the best she could hope was to be half as good as he was at this, he didn't make her feel insecure. The mare had a sweet temper and she responded well to the touch of her new mistress, and the princess thought to herself perhaps her betrothed knew her even better than she had realised; he could not have chosen her a more suitable mount.

When Lothíriel was growing more confident in the saddle, he suggested they race for a bit, and so they urged their horses to move faster. Then her heart rose with the speed and she let out a laugh of joy and wonder. If the love Rohirrim had for their horses and their free plains had never fully made sense to her, now it surely did!

After a while, they slowed down and she calmed enough to pay attention to the landscape. Éomer rode next to her and spoke softly, pointing at mountaintops and naming them in his own tongue, or showing this or that thing nearby. She listened eagerly and made questions, which he answered with smiles and occasional touch to her hand.

Around midday, they stopped by the river Snowbourn. There some great rocks rested, which they used as seats as they enjoyed a light repast, produced from saddlebags. There were fresh scones with some cheese, dried fruit and cold meats, and an ale skin was passed between them freely. It was such a relaxed, light-hearted setting and Lothíriel was enjoying herself to the fullest.

When she had handed the ale skin to her brother again, Éomer looked suddenly straight at her with a question in his eyes.

"Say, how would you feel about having a second betrothal feast here in Edoras before you leave?" he bluntly inquired without any introduction to the subject. She blinked in surprise.

"... I hadn't really thought about it, to be honest", she said at length,

"A few people asked me only yesterday", Éomer said slowly, rubbing his chin. "I think many are hoping for it – expecting, even. It rather seems they would feel cheated if they don't get a betrothal feast, too, like the court in south did."

"If it's not too much trouble... I mean... I don't want to cause inconvenience", she said with some hesitation.

But the Rohir smiled.

"Who do you think I am, sweet one? If I say there will be a feast, then there damn well shall be, no matter the inconvenience. And believe me, the trouble of it is much lesser than the disappointment of practically everybody would be", he answered steadily before his voice grew a little softer again, "Unless, of course, you don't want to have another celebration."

"No, no! I would love it. I just don't want to seem frivolous or imprudent to your people", she quickly said, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Believe me, you would just be doing them a favour. Last winter was long and hard, and Eorlingas could use some good cheer and feasting for once", he said to her and a shadow passed across his features.

"Then we should have a betrothal feast", she said gently, offering him a warm smile. It seemed to cheer him up too.

"I'll tell Gytha to start the preparations immediately", Éomer said, relaxing again on his seat.

"Wonderful. Just what I needed: a chance for you two act even more like a pair of lovesick fools", Amrothos commented dryly, but his words only made the King and Princess laugh.

Lothíriel would much have liked to spend several more hours riding and exploring the plains, but her betrothed said he had an appointment with his advisers this afternoon, and so they turned back to the city. With a smile, she thought of all that had happened so far and the things that were still ahead of them. A sense of happiness spread in her chest as she looked around herself and saw her king riding by her side. All that she had wished, all that she had feared would never come to pass, was soon to be fulfilled.

She was a mere shade no more.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Muse remains something hyperactive, so here goes another update for this week! I hope you like it. :)

We've now been properly introduced to Aelfrun, the woman who is not so excited about the betrothal. Personally, I feel it was a good idea to include her. At least, while writing this chapter (and drafting the next), I felt like she spiced up some things!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **EStrunk -** In that case, it was probably a good choice to change things a bit. Your comments often give me good pointers as to whether I'm going the right way or not. :) Also I'm glad you liked the nosy Rohirrim! :D

 **Tibblets -** Thanks! I'm happy to hear you're tagging along. :)

 **Anon -** Yes, it is rather much to take in! But I think she's growing to like them. :) As for Aelfrun, we'll see what she intends now! And you are very much correct. Spring does seem like a long time when they are so impatient!

 **Jo -** I don't think Lothíriel would be annoyed - a little bewildered, perhaps, but on the other hand, she understands well where these questions come from. But now that she has established she's not pregnant (yet!), I think they should be content with that. :)

 **Nerdanel -** Thank you so much! I am glad to hear my writings are not just nonsense piled on more nonsense. :) And it was fun writing her with the ladies! It's always so delightful for me to explore Rohan and Rohirrim through her eyes.

 **Wondereye -** Thank you!


	9. Chapter 9

Éomer did not see Aelfrun the morning after he had seen her, and whether that was a sign his warning had been duly noted, he wasn't certain. But her rather doubted it, for she was not widely known for her complacent personality. He knew she could be as stubborn as any pig-headed Eorling, and if she had decided he was making a severe mistake... well, she could be planning to use her own methods to change his mind.

The truth was indeed he had not given much thought to the task of finding a wife past autumn and winter. But this did not mean he had not been approached by multiple ladies who had the very obvious intention of ensnaring him. Due to the many concerns of the throne, Éomer had been rather preoccupied at the time, and so he didn't remember their exact number, or even all their faces. However, it would have been a lie to say he didn't recall _hers_. Aelfrun had very much been the shining champion leading the charge.

The young king of Rohan had thought he had made his opinion absolutely clear: he didn't have time to court anyone and he certainly wasn't going to marry any time soon. This has been the case until the events in Emyn Arnen. For several reasons he had considered it an unexpected stroke of luck. Not only was he spared from the effort of trying to find a lady who could shoulder the duties of a queen, he had also found a woman whom he rather adored.

But even so perhaps it was foolish of him to have expected there would be no backlash, especially from a woman as fierce and determined as Aelfrun was. If he should guess, Aelfrun had probably regarded herself as the most likely choice, once the day came he could be persuaded to give serious thought to marriage. And this had been a chance that was not likely to come again, not during this generation at least: young and unmarried kings were not the most common of creatures.

He had not made any promises to her, not even when he had known her as a younger and less wise man, but perhaps it had never mattered to her. In her world, he had no choice but one.

Though these musings had troubled him during the night, they did vanish when Lothíriel came with her brother to the courtyard of Meduseld, excited for their plan for the morning. Her enthusiasm infected him quickly, and Aelfrun fell utterly from his thoughts. What a pleasure it was to help her to get to know her new horse! He had already noted that she undermined her own skill in riding. Rather, it seemed to him she simply didn't trust herself as much as she ought to, and with gentle encouragement and a few pointers here and there, she eventually grew more confident in the saddle. And then they raced side by side, and Éomer found himself utterly bewitched by the look of wonder and delight on her features.

They had a good time that day, and he felt he could easily have spent many more hours riding and showing her the lands near Edoras, but it had been hard enough to make this morning clear of all appointments. So they headed back to the city once more, though he promised her they would go riding again as soon as possible.

His good cheer took a troubled turn once more when they reached Meduseld. For there he saw her face again: Aelfrun stood near the watchtower that overlooked the city and the plains, and her eyes were cool and critical as she considered the small band returning from the plains. Lothíriel did not notice her or his sudden change of mood, but went on talking happily about how much she looked forward to training more with Moonmaid.

Éomer turned quickly towards his bride again, and once he had dismounted, he moved to her side. Then he lifted her by waist to the ground and kissed her brow, as if she were a talisman against all uneasy thoughts.

"I had good time today", he told her in a low voice. Resting her small hands against his chest, she looked up at him with that wide-eyed expression he rather loved, the one that was so sweet and inviting and warm. In this moment, no other woman existed in his entire universe.

"I did too. Thank you for teaching me – and for giving me Moonmaid", she answered and tiptoed to plant a quick little kiss on his lips. Then it seemed to occur to her what she had done in the view of all of the royal household who were outside at the time, and her cheeks reddened in a most endearing fashion. Amrothos made a sound of displeasure and Éomer let his own hands to fall down.

"It was my pleasure", he said and felt restored once more. She truly had a way of smoothing away all his unpleasant musings. With a smile, he asked, "See you at dinner?"

"Absolutely, _fréawine min_ ", she answered, and though there was still a blush on her cheeks, her eyes glinted.

And upon hearing her call him so, in his own tongue, what else could he do except to kiss her?

* * *

Lothíriel did not head indoors with Éomer, though she was tempted: her accent was thick and she knew she needed to practice pronunciation, but her betrothed had understood her when she had called him her "beloved lord". Scýne had taught her the words, and seeing the look in her king's eyes when she uttered them, she knew it had been a good idea.

Even so, she was eager to spend some more time with her new steed, and so she entered the royal stables with the man appointed to look after Moonmaid. Her betrothed had previously shown the stables to her, and they were just as magnificent as could be expected. Stalls were wide, with much space for the horses, and here too ornate wood carvings covered most surfaces. Each space was occupied by a horse so fine as one would not find even in a southern lord's home. At the very end of the stables was the biggest stall, reserved for the King's own horse. There Firefoot was lead by his squire and the stallion pranced as though he was well aware of his position. Lothíriel smiled to herself, for she had never thought horses as having personalities, but in Rohan she had rather come to consider that perhaps her previous assumptions were not so correct.

Gentle light filtered inside through windows near the ceiling and fastened to the beams of the stalls there were lanterns, empty and unused during daytime. All objects, from manure forks to buckets were in good order about the walls and hooks here and there. The master of stables ruled almost as a king himself here and no nonsense was allowed near the horses. As they worked, the men would often sing alone or together, and the tunes were gentle and soothing kind that wouldn't alarm the steeds. In wonder, Lothíriel watched as stablemen handled and cared for the animals, their skill so fine and subtle it was almost like sorcery. She imagined only Elves, perhaps, had a greater control and understanding over animals.

Amrothos was not quite so fascinated by what went around in the stables, which probably had to do with the fact that he, like Elphir and Erchirion before him, had for many months served in the stables of Dol Amroth. It was a part of training for all Swan Knights, and Lothíriel recalled her father saying it would teach them discipline and respect for horses – whether that was true for the youngest of her brothers, she couldn't say. At the moment, Amrothos was lazily sitting on a bale of hay and talking with one younger stablehand about horse racing, and he paid only an occasional notice to his sister.

Moonmaid's stablehand, a man named Guthred, took the mare to her own stall and there began to unsaddle her. Meanwhile, Lothíriel stood petting the soft nose of her new equine friend. The horse sought her hands with sensitive lips, making her laugh softly.

"I'm sorry, _mellon nîn!_ I don't have any treats for you right now. But I promise that will be amended when I come again", she spoke to the horse. There was still such marvel in her heart that this beautiful animal should be her own now, even though Éomer had promised to give her a horse as early as back in Ithilien. She smiled when she thought of the look on Amrothos face when her betrothed had presented Moonmaid to her, and she imagined Elphir and Erchirion would express similar yearning when she returned to Dol Amroth again. Éomer had whispered that he would indeed gift them and their father with horses some time, too, but not before the herds of the Mark were more recovered from recent hardship.

"She likes you", said Guthred at length and glanced at her with a half-smile.

"I should hope so, at least. It would be a sad thing to start this relationship with resentment from either side", Lothíriel said, running her hand over the graceful neck of her steed. She gave him a lopsided smile, "Not to mention, it would be quite embarrassing both to me and the King if the lady in my position could not get along with horses, and especially her own horse."

"It is good that you show her attention. Moonmaid's sire was half _mearh_ , and horses of that blood are eager to form a bond with their riders", Guthred commented. The princess cast him a wide-eyed look; even she, a foreigner, knew of _mearas_ and their wondrous nature. Éomer himself had said that according to tales of Eorlingas, this breed of horses had first been brought from Valinor by Oromë himself. A Rohirric horse was a kingly gift, but a steed descended from _mearas_ was even beyond that.

"Could you teach me how to care for her? I never got a chance to learn back home", she asked him hesitantly, but when a pleased smile appeared on Guthred's rugged features, she grew reassured once more.

"It would be an honour, my lady", he said and bowed to her. Then he beckoned her to enter the stall so that he could show her what to do.

Guthred was a good teacher, even if his style was more quiet than Éomer's. He seemed to enjoy it, though, and his bearded face showed no distaste for having to teach an ignorant southern princess. When other stablehands stopped to watch and to put in their own instructions, Guthred quickly chastised them and told them to mind their own business. Eventually, she understood it was indeed an honour to be teaching the King's bride.

It was afternoon already when she left the stables. Amrothos had gone ahead, saying he'd meet her outside when she was finished. Once she had thanked Guthred one last time and promised to come again the next day, Lothíriel headed for the doors of the stables. Smiling to herself, she thought she probably smelt completely of horses and had hay in her hair; hopefully, it would also help her to reassure everyone that she was more than willing to assimilate among her new people.

When she stepped out, she did not get the chance to look around for her brother. For the first thing she saw upon exiting was the face of that strange woman who had now twice given her those resentful looks from afar. Lothíriel blinked in surprise.

"I'm sorry", she said, side-stepping as to not to walk straight into the woman, "can I help you?"

The words were entirely polite, but the green eyes of the woman flashed dangerously, as though Lothíriel had just thrown a vicious insult to her.

"What makes you so deserving, I wonder?" asked the stranger in a low, threatening hiss. "I look at you and see nothing that could possibly make you worthy of him."

In a life before Éomer, these words would probably have rendered her speechless and made her blush in embarrassment. Perhaps they might have done her so even now. And granted, she did feel warmth on her cheeks, but maybe it was due to the sweet moments of today that she was not so taken aback as she previously would have been. She found now that his affection and regard had made her bolder than she had ever thought possible.

"I do not know whether I'm worthy or not", she said simply, meeting the green eyes calmly, "but thankfully for me, it is not for you to decide."

Now it was the strange woman's turn to be surprised, and for a moment she did not seem to know what to say. But Lothíriel did not stand back to wait for her to get back her composure. She straightened herself and went along, her eyes already seeking for a glimpse of her brother.

She had got the last word in that little confrontation, but it brought her no satisfaction. She rather felt whatever this was about, it was far from over.

* * *

The next few days were as glad as Éomer had hoped when inviting her to Edoras. Though he had to divide his time between Lothíriel and his duties, the moments spent with her were invariably happy and delightful. She was in high spirits and her mood infected him as well, so that he would go back to council meetings and reading reports with a smile on his face. From the years of his adult life, he could scarcely remember another time when he had been as happy as he was now.

Her own time was not idly spent. She was making fast friends with the ladies of the court: Gytha was already won over, and it was rare to see his princess without Scýne and Leoflaed, Háma's widow, by her side. The three women had taken it to themselves to show her around in Edoras at times he couldn't. They took her to see the craftsmen and -women of the city, introduced her to merchants and weavers and smiths. Every day she went to see Moonmaid and to help Guthred out with looking after the horse, and Leoflaed, one of the best riders in entire city, accompanied her to plains when Éomer himself couldn't.

Also, his own bard had begun to teach her the language of the Mark, and instruct her in the histories of the land. At times, she would attempt to have a conversation with Éomer in Rohirric, but as of now her grasp remained feeble. He had promised to send one of his own men with her when she returned to Dol Amroth, so that she might continue learning the new tongue. It rather pleased him that she was eager to be taught; he remembered well that Morwen Steelsheen his grandmother had refused it til the end. Often she called him _fréawine min,_ which never failed to make his heart grow with tenderness and warmth.

By the time she joined him for supper, she was full of little stories of the things she had seen and learned that day. It made him glad, to see how excited these new experiences were making her. It also reassured him that she would not grow unhappy once they were married and she stayed here for good.

The time and ways he was able to spend with her was grievously limited not only by the sleepless demands of the throne and also the vigilant guards that always followed her: either there was Amrothos to keep an eye on them, or Himiel. The latter especially withstood no attempts of kissing from the bridegroom, and her usual expression when looking at him was as if she would dearly have wanted to poke him with a needle.

Even so, at times he was able to pull his princess behind a pillar, or to a shadowy corridor, and then kiss her until she was red and breathless. Always she answered eagerly, drawing him to her as though a thirsty man to a clear fountain.

But though the days were so joyful, there was one blemish in his happiness. For almost each day, he saw Aelfrun either in the courtyard of Meduseld, or nearby. That same critical expression remained on her face, especially whenever Lothíriel was in his company. He tried not to pay attention to the spiteful woman, but it was difficult to ignore her. At times, he wondered if he should tell Lothíriel, but on the other hand, what could he say? After all, it was not as though he planned on giving up his princess and doing whatever absurd thing it was Aelfrun wanted of him. In the quiet of his thoughts, he hoped that the woman's temper would be soothed in time when she finally understood this was happening, and Lothíriel would be queen. In part, he knew it was because he wanted to shelter her; he knew all too well the insecure look on her face that still appeared at times. Deep down in her heart, some fear and doubt still lived that he did not want her due to her own merit. If Aelfrun realised the existence of that fear, she was sure to use it to her own ends – perhaps make Lothíriel think his interest in her would not last.

As of now, it did not look like Aelfrun was thinking of letting this go. At least, that was rather convincingly implied by a chance meeting he had with her near the Golden Hall when he was returning from the lower city. Then again, he did not really believe any appearance she made in his path was by chance.

At the moment, Aelfrun was leaning her back against the wall of a smithy. She was eating an apple, cutting it into wedges with a small, delicate knife and slipping them slowly into her mouth with such fashion as one might have called provocative. The impression was amplified by the stare of her green eyes, fixed on his. Instantly, the image brought him memories a man about to marry should forget.

Mostly out of common courtesy, Éomer did nod at her in greeting, but he kept his expression as level as he could, and meant to stride quickly past her. But Aelfrun was not content with such a puny little acknowledgement.

"Care for a bite?" she asked him in a smoky, sensual tone, much to his dismay. Yes, she knew how to handle a man – she was rather brilliant at it. But he was also very well aware that 'handling' was not the same as being able to conjure a mental and in some ways more profound sense of happiness. As well as she pulled particular strings, he couldn't recall ever feeling any true contentment of soul in her company. On the other hand, in those days he had been less in control of his anger, and generally unhappier than he was now.

"No thank you", Éomer said coolly. He did not meet her eyes, though he could feel them still regarding him intently.

"How disappointing. I seem to recall you're quite fond of apples", Aelfrun said, still using that same lazy, sultry tone

He halted abruptly and looked at her in growing anger.

"What do you want, Aelfrun?" he demanded to know.

"I want you to see reason, Éomer", she answered, and now all temptation was gone from her tone.

"Reason? Are you certain it is reason?" he asked belligerently. However, his tone and his words hardly impacted her.

"Don't be foolish, Éomer! What do you think that girl can give to us? She's a Gondorian! What do they know of our ways? Have you already forgotten about Morwen?" Aelfrun asked back. He was not surprised that she threw the old queen's name at him. Many there still were that murmured of the great and beautiful lady, and remembered how she had refused to learn the ways of Rohirrim. Even in the lifetime of his grandfather Thengel, there had been those who had resented both him and his queen for their preferring the southern customs – some had even said that he was but a vassal who took orders from the Citadel of Mundburg. Though he had been dead for many years now, his name was still remembered with mixed feelings.

"And have _you_ forgotten that Morwen was my grandmother?" Éomer inquired sharply. Before Aelfrun could say anything, he went on, "Lothíriel is nothing like her. She'll be fine if she's just given a chance. She is dear to me and I will not suffer hearing her thus demeaned."

"Well, of course you think that. You were always partial to dark hair, weren't you? But I wonder what will happen when this infatuation wears off", she said with a wry smile, and his blood grew hot with anger. But he told himself he couldn't lose his temper with her, at least not more than he already had. It was the surest way to give her the satisfaction she wanted.

"You know nothing, Aelfrun", he said and moved ahead, but she was not yet done. She strode quickly to his side again and kept up with his speed.

"Still and all, I must give credit where it's due. It was quite ingenious thing to do, ensnaring you the way she did! Pity that we lasses of the Mark never realised it was actually as simple as just jumping to share your saddle", Aelfrun said, and her voice was full of bitter humour.

Anger mounted in his head like a hot flame. Insults to those he cared about had never sat well with him, and neither did they now.

"You are walking on thin ice, Aelfrun. I have been more than patient with you, for I haven't yet forgotten our friendship. But it will not last if you keep this up. _Leave her alone",_ he growled under his breath and glared straight at her.

She did not look intimidated. Then again, he suspected no mortal man had that power over her, and this quality he had often admired. But if it now meant she would not give up her hate towards an innocent...

"You are no master of me, Éomer, even if you are king", she simply replied. Then she turned away and went, leaving him as resigned and apprehensive as ever. Something told him this was not the last he would see of her.

His stride was sharp and agitated as he continued his way, and soon he entered the courtyard of Meduseld. Amrothos was there, and he hollered in greeting, but Éomer's own answer was curt. Instantly he regretted it when he saw the confused look on the young man's face.

"Is something amiss?" Amrothos wanted to know. "Trouble in land?"

"No, no. Just some obstinate Eorlingas who won't listen to reason", he answered with a grimace. His choice of words made Amrothos chuckle.

"Is there any other brand of Eorlingas?" he asked jovially.

Some other time, the young king would have had no qualms in joining the banter. But right now, he was not in the mood.

"You have no idea", he muttered and headed for the Hall. He knew Amrothos would be wondering about his sudden change of mood, but it couldn't be helped.

Thankfully, upon entering Meduseld he saw just the person he had hoped for. Lothíriel was there nearby, talking animatedly with Gytha and Leoflaed. He smiled a little: it was good to see she was getting along so well with them.

She did not see him coming until he wrapped one arm around her waist. His princess let out a small gasp of surprise and looked up at him.

"Excuse you!" she exclaimed, blushing most endearingly. He gazed at her almost hungrily, as though looking at her face could cure one from all bitter thoughts. Himiel cleared her throat and stepped closer – a sign for him to let go of his bride.

"Don't mind him, my lady. I do not know where this one learned his manners, but orcs come to mind more often than not", Gytha scolded him gently, as she was so fond of doing.

"Aye, and you better get used to them", he added in a more cheerful tone. He felt a little better already. But Leoflaed lifted her eyebrows quizzically, as though she knew exactly what went through his mind.

"Do you have time? We were meaning to go and eat some lunch. You'd be welcome to join us if you want", Lothíriel asked hopefully,

"With pleasure, sweet one", he answered with a genuine smile this time. He had a long council meeting ahead of him, so he'd better strengthen himself for it.

"Let us go then! I think everything should be ready in my – er, the Queen's Solar", said his princess and looked around uncertainly, perhaps hoping to make sure she hadn't crossed a line.

"Indeed, my lady", Leoflaed said evenly, and her quiet grace seemed to console Lothíriel.

The made to move, but Éomer turned towards his chatelaine.

"Gytha, may I have a word?" he asked her in a quiet, low voice. His bride looked at him curiously, but he gestured them to go, "Go ahead. We'll catch right up."

"What is it now?" Gytha asked when the two women had gone ahead.

"Have you seen Aelfrun around the Hall?" he asked her in a low voice, leaning closer to her to keep this conversation private.

"Occasionally, yes. But what of it? People are always coming and going", answered his chatelaine.

"I'd just like to ask for a favour", Éomer said at length, quickly thinking of how to put his words. "If you see her around again, could you please make sure she doesn't go near Lothíriel?"

Gytha looked surprised. Whatever she had expected, it surely wasn't this.

"What is it, lad? Has Aelfrun done something to imply she might upset the lady?" she wanted to know. The woman was well aware of his past with Aelfrun, and knowing her character as he did, she too had made the same assumptions as himself.

"I can't say. Who knows what she means to do?" Éomer muttered anxiously. "Just make sure she doesn't cause any grief here."

The woman before him looked even more suspicious. Her dark blue eyes bore into his, her expression so discerning that it made him feel like a young boy.

"Éomer, have you told Lothíriel about her?" she asked at length.

"No. Why should I? She's not a part of my life anymore, and she'll realise that soon enough, too. I'm trying to start something new here, Gytha. Lothíriel a sensitive soul and she's still young. She comes from a world different than our own and I'm not sure she'd understand. I won't have her feelings hurt by something that happened years ago", he told her, though he was dismayed to know his voice did not come out as resolute as he would have liked.

"She's stronger than you realise, Éomer. You should tell her. When she's in full possession of the truth, then it can't be harnessed to harm her", Gytha pointed out in a quiet, calm voice.

He shook his head.

"No, Gytha. I will not disrespect her by telling her about women who are not her equal in my eyes", Éomer said, determined once more. "Aelfrun belongs in my past. I will not give her power over my present."

The chatelaine didn't seem satisfied, but even so she sighed and stood back.

"As you wish, then. But don't be surprised if this does not turn out well", Gytha said a little stiffly, and though she complied in words, by the look in her eyes he knew she was not well pleased with him. How often he had seen it in years ago when he had still been a wild, angry boy? Somehow, in those days her disappointment had often impacted him much more deeply than Uncle's scolding words.

But those days were past now, and he must do as he deemed best. And he needed to protect the gentle heart which had so readily been given to him in the garden of Emyn Arnen.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Here's a new chapter! I hope you enjoy it. :)

This update should give a little more info on what Aelfrun is to Éomer. Whether or not he's right to keep this to himself will remain to be seen. In any case, I'd say it has to do with how he perceives Gondorians - and how he thinks they regard Rohirrim.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 _fréawine min =_ my beloved lord

 _mellon nîn =_ my friend

* * *

 **eschscholzia** \- And I'm excited to show just that! :)

 **EStrunk -** Thanks! :) You are quite correct - they are smitten with one another. And Aelfrun surely is not the most benevolent of people!

 **Wondereye -** Maybe, we'll see about that!

 **Rinarwen -** Like I said back in last chapter's replies, I always enjoy exploring through her eyes. :) Also I hope Aelfrun remains compelling in this chapter, too!

 **Anon -** That he is indeed! He's rather anxious to keep her safe and sound. I always thought he would be so, especially after he has seen so many of his loved ones die.

 **Jo -** Happy to hear that! :) We'll see about how it goes with Aelfrun.

 **Nerdanel -** Even if I don't do smut, I can understand that! But tension can be delicious, too - even if it's making our unlucky lovers frustrated! :)


	10. Chapter 10

The next day was rather beautiful, with bright sunlight and very little wind. Lothíriel wished to see a bit more of the city and she asked Himiel to accompany her, but the maid was not feeling her best today, and it was decided she should spend it resting. Thankfully, Amrothos agreed to make up for the maid's absence and come along.

Leoflaed came too, along with her daughter Cengifu, who was only a year younger than Lothíriel. She had some of the same sadness as her mother, but in smaller degree, and despite the loss of her father she still had youth's ability to heal from grief. She had been a little reserved at first when they had met, but since then Cengifu had grown more easy in her presence. Then she had also revealed something like carefreeness in herself, which Lothíriel felt must have been much stronger before Háma had died.

They paid a visit to the markets, but while the princess did not have any particular needs there and was more occupied by just looking around, Leoflaed and Cengifu seemed to have an endless list of things they needed to buy, and at each stall they spent a while first examining some goods, then haggling about them with the merchant, and eventually either making the purchase or deciding against it.

As such, it wasn't long that Amrothos grew bored; the city had other attractions to him than the company of his sister and her lady friends who were overly eager to shop. Perhaps his distraction was also the reason he didn't notice how Leoflaed rose to the occasion like a fox hunting a rabbit.

"My lord, if you have other appointments, we would be happy to escort your sister", she reassured him, and though her eyes were often hard to read, now Lothíriel thought there was a secret glimmer in them.

"You would do that for me?" Amrothos asked, his head perking up as his hope was revived.

"Of course, Prince Amrothos. It would be our pleasure", Leoflaed answered and curtsied.

His desire to go along was clearly written across his face, but even so he turned to look at his sister. He asked, "Will you be all right? Won't get into any trouble?"

"Don't worry about me, brother", she said with a smile and made a shooing gesture at him. "Go and enjoy yourself."

"Very well then. Just remember to behave", said her brother, and after giving her one-armed hug, he strode along. The lightness of his step rather betrayed how joyfully surprised he was to get a chance to go and pursue his own schemes.

However, when the princess turned to look at the two ladies, she saw them looking like a pair of conspirators.

"Finally he's gone", Cengifu said and smiled brightly. "Come along, my lady."

Lothíriel looked between two women in suspicion.

"What are you planning? Why so eager to get rid of my brother?" she asked, but the mother and daughter only shared a secretive smile.

"You'll see", Leoflaed answered with a rare look of mischief on her usually solemn features.

Without further word, the two women took her between themselves, and then with a quick stride, they escorted her to where one corridor lead to the eastern parts of the village. There in pairs stood four horses: two mounted Riders of the King's Guard, and Captain Éothain was holding both his own steed and Moonmaid by reins.

"My lady", Éothain greeted her and he grinned. All five Rohirrim around her, the Riders included, looked almost like a bunch of little children who have come up with the most wonderful prank.

"What is this, captain?" Lothíriel asked and looked around the faces surrounding her.

"It's a surprise. He told us not to tell you everything, even if you asked", the captain said and moved to help her into saddle.

"He?" Lothíriel echoed. She had a very good idea of who that was, and at last a smile began to grow on her own face.

"Aye, my lady. Now let us go. He's waiting for you", Éothain answered, and with his help, she climbed into the saddle. It was a little awkward, as she hadn't dressed herself for riding, but thankfully Guthred had provided Moonmaid with Lothíriel's own sidesaddle, which was easier to occupy while wearing full skirts. She grinned at Leoflaed and Cengifu, who both looked enormously pleased. They promised to make sure neither Amrothos or Himiel suspected anything, and said Éomer would return her before her absence would make them wonder.

Éothain lead her through the city and the gates of Edoras, as she had known to expect; for within the capital they wouldn't have needed the horses. When they had passed the tombs of kings of old, the captain suggested a faster pace, and so they rode southwards. To herself, Lothíriel wondered what Éomer had in mind and she burned to demand his captain to answer. But she didn't believe the man would tell her anything, especially if Éomer had told him to keep it secret.

After some quarter of an hour, they reached the edge of a green vale. Willows grew there and through their leaves, she could see the glimmer of a stream. Firefoot was grazing nearby, marking this as the place Éomer was waiting for her.

"There you go, my lady. He is waiting by the stream", said Éothain as he helped her on the ground again.

"Thank you, Éothain", she said as the man bowed to her. Then the captain leaped to his own saddle again and the three horsemen who had been escorting her here took their leave.

But Lothíriel lifted the hems of her skirts and began to descend into the vale. There in its lap was a calm shade that sunrays pierced here and there, and the grass and the willows were full of whispers in gentle wind. The stream was small and it seemed shallow, but its waters ran clear, bubbling merrily on the way to join Snowbourn.

There on the bank Éomer stood, gazing downstream in contemplation. But she could not mask her arrival from him. He turned around and smiled when he saw her. He was dressed simply in linen shirt, with sleeves rolled up, and dark brown breeches. As ever, sword hang by his side.

"There you are. I was starting to think Amrothos wouldn't allow you from his sight", he said in wry humour as he came to meet her.

"It took some time to wear him down, but Leoflaed and Cengifu seem to know that art very well", Lothíriel laughed.

"I promised there would be eager accomplices here, didn't I?" Éomer answered and reached to kiss her – properly this time, with time and care and uninterrupted by chaperones. She was glad, for he was a very good kisser and they got so rarely a chance to do this. Not that she had a point of reference, or desired for one. Deep within there was a certainty that if she had ever had a chance for a love that lasted her lifetime, it was with this man.

When he pulled back, she asked him, "Are we alone?"

"Moderately. The hills around us are watched, and if I should sound my horn, this place would be crawling with horsemen in minutes", he responded. Wrinkling his nose, he added, "There is always such a hassle when I mean to leave Edoras. I can't even remember when I last rode out alone."

"Why did you, by the way?" she asked him and rested her arms around his waist. It was a rare pleasure, this moment: usually, she didn't get to be alone with him. And the presence of Amrothos and Himiel always impacted how much she dared to say or do. Thus she couldn't always tell him everything she would have liked to, especially when her Rohirric was still so very basic.

"Because of this", he said and turned, gesturing at something she had not noticed until now. There was a blanket spread on the grass and a basket on it, and Lothíriel could not help but laugh in delight.

"Oh no, you didn't!" she exclaimed as he took her by hand and lead her to the blanket as though he was presenting her to an elf-lord's court.

"Of course I did. I remembered how much I enjoyed myself that day in White City when you took me to your father's garden, and I wanted to do something similar for you, too", he explained as they took seat. Éomer opened the basket and produced a number of foodstuffs there: fresh scones still warm from the ovens, blackberry jam, delicious goat cheese, small and sweet nut cakes, and golden mead to wash it all down. He presented his bounty to her with a self-satisfied smirk. Then at last he produced some strawberries, making her laugh in joy for the fond memory they shared.

"Gytha had to hunt far and wide for these. There aren't much left this late in summer, but that woman and her skills are sorcery", he told her with a wry little smile.

"I could easily believe that", she agreed as she arranged her skirts around her feet and accepted a scone from him. Topped with jam, it was delicious.

"I used to come here sometimes when I was visiting Edoras as captain or as Marshal", he said after a while, resting himself against his elbow and toying idly with his cup of mead. "Life back in the city can be so noisy sometimes."

"Do you ever miss those days?" Lothíriel asked at length. He had told her some about his life before the War of the Ring, but there were still many things she looked forward to discovering.

"Some things, yes. My uncle and Théodred were alive... and it was easier being a captain or Marshal than king. But I do not miss the doubt and darkness... or the person I used to be", he said quietly. A frown had appeared to his features, as though he was remembering something unpleasant.

It also brought another thing to her mind – the thing she had been pondering at times, and which she had not mentioned even to him yet. Perhaps he saw something on her face, for he looked straight at her with curious eyes.

"I wonder sometimes... can I ever live up to you? It seems that you have witnessed and taken part in such great things, while I have spent my life safely shut behind the walls of my father's palace. How can I stand next to you and be worthy?" Lothíriel asked finally. She did not like how small her voice had become, nor the sensation of embarrassment that grew in her chest.

"Lothíriel, you shouldn't think like that", Éomer replied in a strong, vehement voice as he sat up straight. "There is no difference in worth between us. I do not deny some things I have seen were beyond my imagination, and perhaps there are those it has given only greatness. But for me it's not that simple. You see... all that horror and shadow and despair..."

He seemed to hesitate, and he frowned, as though looking for the right words. He took a breath.

"My sweet one, because of my own efforts and things I had no control over, parts of me are scarred. I often expect the worst of people and my trust is not easily given. I tend to wait for bad to happen, rather than to regard things with hope. I get moody and difficult and I bluntly tell my opinions to people who don't necessarily want to hear them. It's hard for me to let myself love", he told her and met her eyes. As he spoke of what he perceived as flaws in himself, his voice was keen and ruthless, and she had never heard any other person judging themselves out loud in such a merciless fashion.

However, suddenly his expression softened once more and warmth returned into his eyes and to his voice.

"But you, my dear princess... you are pure, purer than I can ever hope to be again. And you are so sweet and warm and loving, and when I'm with you, I feel like some things are restored in me that I thought long gone. You make me want to become a better man. I'm starting to realise that's just... see, I know you don't owe me anything and it's not your responsibility to save anyone. But you are exactly what I need. It's clear to me now that finding you in the woods of Ithilien is the best thing that has ever happened to me", he finished at last and let out a breath. There was so much on his features just then, shades of old griefs and wounds that had perhaps only half healed, but on the other hand, she thought she saw there some hope, too. In that moment, Lothíriel knew she was looking at something few, if any had ever witnessed.

Her throat felt tight and tears threatened to blind her. If his face exposed him right now, then she was certain that hers too allowed a glimpse of things she had kept tightly locked inside her heart.

"... thank you. I can't tell how much that means to me", she spoke very softly and patted the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Here, have some more mead", he said simply and poured more of the golden liquid into her cup. His expression was composed again and showed nothing of the things she had just seen; but now she knew they existed and it made her feel like she was closer to him than ever before.

After that, their conversations grew lighter once again, and soon enough she was laughing and smiling. Éomer shared amusing anecdotes from his and Éowyn's childhood, and she told him about her years growing up in Dol Amroth. He settled to lay on his back, arms crossed under his head, and soon she laid herself next to him, gazing up to the gently fluttering leaves and the blue sky above. There was such peace in the world, or at least in this little vale, that it seemed like time itself had ceased to exist. In low voices they spoke, and at times his deep, rumbling laughter rose next to her.

Then her king turned on his side towards her, and at the look in his eyes, she felt very young – but not insecure or scared. Gently he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against the earlobe. He traced them down her jaw, let them rest a moment on her chin, and then they dipped below to her neck. She concentrated on how it felt like, his fingertips running across her neck, and then over her pulse... did he feel how the beat quickened at his touch?

"You have such a beautiful neck", he murmured as he moved closer, and his breath was hot against her skin. She felt like one who has fallen under enchantment.

"And you have... have such a..." she stammered, but then his lips covered hers, and she had no idea anymore what she had tried to say.

He rolled on the top of her and she felt like she was utterly under his mercy, for his body pressed against her and their feet entangled. Eagerly he deepened the kiss until she was feeling like she was close to seeing stars. First her hands trembled when she pushed her fingers into his long, golden mane, but they grew more sure as she ran them against his neck, his powerful shoulders... she lifted one leg and wound it with his in an attempt to get him even closer, and she felt him shudder. When he broke the kiss, her first thought was that she had done something wrong. But the brazen look in his eyes as he stared down at her reassured it was not so.

For the longest moment, neither of them moved. There they lay, grass whispering around them, and their eyes locked together as though in a mental conversation. And his eyes did speak in volumes to her, telling her things most intimate.

"We should stop", he managed to say at last, though his voice was hoarse, "while we still can."

With that, he rolled away again, and for a time they lay silent, both just breathing. Lothíriel shut her eyes and tried to relax, but her head was still in haze and her body seemed to except – yearn even – for him to return to her again. And Elbereth, how she wanted him to! At last, she felt like understanding just why Himiel and Amrothos were so anxious to keep her from getting too close to this irresistible man.

In silence, his hand fell upon hers, but he did not touch her further; he merely rested it there, warm and secure.

"Do you think we can endure until spring?" she asked him at last.

He let out a deep breath before answering.

"... I have no idea."

* * *

The scene in the feasting hall was a glad one. There was Lothíriel with Scýne, Leoflaed and Cengifu, along with Éomer's own bard and another musician who often played at the feasts of Meduseld. The former was instructing the future queen in some of the most common dances of the Mark, while the latter had produced a fiddle to conjure some music. Scýne and Cengifu had turns as Lothíriel's partner, and Leoflaed put in an occasional comment.

Éomer had stopped to observe them, half in shadow as he leaned against one wooden pillar. He had meant to join the company, but there was something captivating about just watching them, and especially looking at his bride as she focused on getting the steps right. She looked excited, her eyes were bright, and there was a sweet flush on her cheeks, and he felt like her very spirit filled the Hall with light. In Mundburg, she had blended into the background, but here she shined like a brilliant star.

At times, their voices rose in laughter, making him smile, too. But what rather surprised him was the fact this was the first time he saw Leoflaed laughing after Háma had died. He felt wonder when he considered this. His princess had already touched his own life in ways he hadn't imagined, brought him happiness he hadn't thought to experience, but he hadn't expected her to have such impact on others as well.

He meant to move and go to them, when suddenly he felt a hand against his back, brushing against it in a caress. A hiss escaped his mouth and he shuddered, half in indignation and half, he couldn't deny it, in pleasure. He was not accustomed to waiting and the months before spring were long.

The young king startled away from the touch, although it seemed to have left a burning trail on the skin of his back. When he turned around, he saw Aelfrun standing there, with a smug half-smile on her face. He was not terribly surprised – in fact, the moment he had felt her hand, he had known it was her.

"What do you want?" he asked her curtly, wanting to step back and put more distance between them. But Lothíriel and her company had not yet noticed the two of them, and he didn't want to cause a scene. He had a feeling Aelfrun would just love that.

"I was just thinking of dancing. I seem to recall you're not so bad for a partner", she answered and winked. As ever, she retained the ability to fill her words with a dual meaning simply by the tone of her voice.

"Must we really do this again?" Éomer insisted with some exasperation. Rationally thinking, he knew it would not help him to lose his patience and temper. It would avail him nothing with this woman and in fact, she'd consider it a victory. But even being aware of this, he couldn't hold his racing mind still.

"Do what?" Aelfrun asked in a most innocent voice that vexed him even more.

"You know what I mean!" he hissed between his teeth and rubbed the back of his head. "I know you're disappointed. I don't blame you for that. But what you're doing is not helping and it won't change anything. I have made my decision, and the least a friend would do is accept that."

Aelfrun's eyes flashed.

"A friend will also seek to correct one's ways when they clearly are so ill-advised", she stated sharply. "And she is not yet your wife. From what I've heard, she's not even bearing your child. Plenty can change before spring."

"You are so eager to devastate our hopes? To ruin her and mine happiness? And you think that if you succeed in this, _I_ would be welcoming you with open arms?" Éomer asked, now more in control of himself and thus able to make an argument that was not so unconvincing.

He thought he could see momentary uncertainty in her green eyes. But it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

"Perhaps", she said at length, crossing her arms against her chest. "Perhaps you will do just that once that girl is gone, unable to mess with your head anymore, and you have had time to come to your senses. I know how men think, Éomer."

Anger flared in his head and he stepped closer, glaring at the woman with burning eyes.

"It seems terribly odd", he said, speaking the words carefully as though lesser focus would render them into snarls, "that you somehow think it is within your rights to make my choices for me. Or that after all this time, you deem me so fickle in my affections."

Once more, hesitation appeared in her gaze. But like before, it did not last long.

"You are stubborn", she stated softly. "That is no news to me."

"There is being stubborn", he snapped back, "and then there is being wilfully pigheaded."

With that, he turned away. He couldn't speak to her for another minute, lest he lost his temper utterly.

Éomer did not head straight at Lothíriel – he didn't want to worry her with what was sure to be a thunderous expression – but made a brief sojourn by his study. There he quickly filled a cup with some strong liquor, produced from a drawer where he always kept a flask for just such purposes. Then, having downed it, he headed out again.

The women were still in the middle of their dance practice and the fiddler was finishing a tune when Éomer approached the scene. His bride was facing the bard and her back was towards him, and so she did not see him coming. But the bard Hengest did, and the man seemed to know exactly what the young king was hoping for.

Hengest looked at Lothíriel and said, "My lady, may I suggest a new dance?"

"Of course", she answered, still unsuspecting. The sound of her voice... it was as though a soothing balm over an injury. A calmer mood came to him, overshadowing the heat of anger.

"This one is a traditional wedding dance, performed by the bride and groom at the feast. But we need a male partner for you, as the dance includes a few lifts that require strength, and I imagine Éomer King would be most displeased with us if you were injured during practice", said Hengestwith a straight face that even managed to fool her.

"A male partner? I could go and ask for my brother -" Lothíriel started, but it was then Éomer came to stand by her side.

"Might I suffice?" he asked her warmly.

She turned sharply towards him and laughter filled her bright eyes.

"Well, I suppose you will do just fine", she said lightly, placing her hand in his. She grinned before continuing, "I must warn you, though. My betrothed is a great warrior, and I do not think he would like it if he heard that I'm practising our wedding dance with another man."

"I won't tell him if you don't", he said and returned her grin.

Their exchange of words seemed to amuse the others, and Hengest the bard smiled broadly as he began to instruct them.

"Now, the lady holds on to the groom's shoulders, while he places his hands on her waist. You stand like this..." he spoke and continued to explain the dance. But Éomer hardly listened to him, for his eyes were fixed on the radiant face of his bride. She looked up at him with a huge smile and he wondered how could Aelfrun ever doubt this. Here stood a woman who was, to him, brighter and sweeter than anyone else.

In his mind's eye, she wore flowers in her hair and it was spring at last.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And here you go! I hope you enjoy this new chapter. :)

What can I say? I'm fond of Éothiriel picnics. I'm also fond of Éothiriel just being happy, even if my angsty stories may sometimes imply otherwise! :D In any case, perhaps their conversation during their picnic will build up their relationship a little more!

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Catspector -** Yes, it should indeed shed some light on the matter. She is one stubborn woman, I'm afraid!

Éomer is also stubborn, and sometimes he goes a little too far in trying to protect those he loves.

 **Rinarwen -** I'm glad you liked it! :)

 **EStrunk -** It surely seems so, yes! I think he's so eager - desperate even - to start a new life with Lothíriel that it makes him a little blind in some matters. Anyway, I'm glad if it seems like how a person would realistically act.

 **Jo -** That he is indeed!

 **Wondereye -** He's just deeply convinced he's right, so it might take something serious to make him reconsider!

 **Anon -** I tend to agree. Past doesn't go away by ignoring it. But alas, for the moment he's convinced talking about Aelfrun with Lothíriel would be a bad idea!

 **Nerdanel -** I can imagine! :D She's very excited to learn more about his world and become a part of it, so it would seem to me like she'd try to talk in his tongue, however bad she is at it! We'll see how things go with Aelfrun.

 **HannahKathleen -** That kind can be very pleasing too, indeed! Gytha does have a point, but Éomer is stubborn, I'm afraid.

Don't be too hard on poor Himiel - she's just trying to do her job!

 **eschscholzia -** Unfortunately I don't really get the quote from Jeff Foxworthy, as I'm not familiar with him. But anyway, Éomer is rather convinced what he's doing is right!


	11. Chapter 11

Approaching Queen's Solar, the first thing Éomer heard was loud laughter. It was followed by a flow of lively chatter and a few exclamations. He smiled to himself: such sounds had not carried from this particular chamber during his lifetime. The young king was not sure how such things were arranged in Gondor, and if lords and ladies there shared rooms with one another, but he was glad Lothíriel would have at least one place in Meduseld she could call her own.

As he got near to the door, the words of the animated conversation became clearer, and he couldn't help but grin when he understood the topic at hand. The company consisted entirely of ladies, and they were giving his bride some marriage advice. The present lesson, as he perceived, sounded like it had to do with distracting a difficult husband. He listened with interest for a moment – he couldn't claim he wasn't highly fascinated by the ways Lothíriel might seek to distract him – even though he knew eavesdropping was not polite. Not to mention, it was clear this was a lesson he wasn't supposed to know about.

It occurred to him he too could use some advice. Though Lothíriel had so far responded to him very well, and he had not yet succeeded in putting her off, she _was_ of Gondor. It was only reasonable to assume she would expect things of him that he had never considered.

But who could he ask for advice? His Rohirric friends were out of question for obvious reasons. Faramir – surely not, for a man doesn't ask that sort of thing from kin, and Lothíriel was his cousin. This also ruled out her brothers, who would probably be disturbed if he asked intimate questions pertaining to their sister. Aragorn would not be helpful either, because what could the husband of Half-elven lady say about mortal women of Gondor?

He sighed to himself. Maybe he should get Amrothos drunk first and then make his questions. On the other hand, as much as he liked his friend, Imrahil's carefree son might not be the most sensitive or tactful adviser when it came to sweet young princesses.

Éomer shook his head and reminded he had not come here to stand around and brood in silence. So he lifted his hand and knocked on the door, and then a chorus of female voices invited him inside.

It was rather crowded in Queen's Solar. There were several ladies of the household, a pair of seamstresses he had hired to supply his bride with new gowns, and Lothíriel herself with a few of her friends. She was standing on a low stool and fitting on a dress made of white wool while the pair of dressmakers flitted around her. Gazing at her, he felt like he couldn't breathe, for she was smiling brightly at him and the contrast of her dark hair against the creamy white cloth was something remarkable. Had she ever seemed so beautiful before coming to Rohan? Suddenly it occurred to him he was going to marry a woman who was like a rare flower blossoming in spring, and that he was probably going to spend the rest of his days fighting off men who were hopelessly smitten with her.

 _Béma, what a lucky fool I am._

"... Éomer?"

She was speaking his name, while he stood there like a daydreaming idiot. Her eyes glittered with gentle amusement and the ladies around them hid their smiles and sniggers behind their hands. He shook himself and gave his bride a sheepish little grin.

"I meant to ask if you had time for a walk, my lady", he said, and then added, "but first I had to stop and appreciate how very beautiful you are today."

A soft blush adorned her cheeks and she smiled, while the women around them rather looked like they were watching a particularly delightful mummer's show.

"Of course! I'll just change, and then we can go", said Lothíriel, stepping down from the stool, and he was ushered out of the room to allow the lady to switch gowns in privacy.

When she joined him again, she looked glad and excited, and she took his arm with a bright smile on her face. Himiel followed them close by, keeping her young mistress under her hawk-like watch.

"You shouldn't just burst like that into a lady's chamber and tell her she's beautiful. I nearly lost all composure!" Lothíriel scolded him gently.

"It's my Hall, so I can burst whenever and wherever I want", Éomer said and offered her a charming grin.

He was tempted to continue teasing her, but he had not forgotten about his earlier musings. Now they grew in his thoughts again and quietly he wondered: would it be so bad to ask Lothíriel herself what she anticipated?

He wanted to make this work. He wanted this thing between them to grow with years to come, not wither and die because they didn't understand each others' wants and needs. And though he knew now he was in love with her, he was also aware that to build something lasting, something that endured storms and challenges and just the common every day life, would take time and effort.

She had noticed how quiet he had gone. So, when they stepped outside the Hall and came into the garden, she looked up at him with a curious expression on her face.

"Is something amiss?" she asked him softly, to keep them moderate privacy from Himiel's ears.

"Everything is well, sweet one", he said at length and looked down at her. How to put his words? Maybe he should just be frank and ask.

Éomer cleared his throat and spoke: "Lothíriel... what do you expect of me?"

His bride did not seem to understand. She met his gaze with a small frown.

"What do you mean?" she asked back.

He did not respond right away – he tried to think of how to explain his thoughts to her. Not that he didn't think she'd understand, if he just found the right words. She might be young, but he knew already she had wisdom and insight.

"I am a man of Rohan, sweet one. I may not be or have what you look for in a husband", he said slowly, paying more attention to her than the way they were going. "You see, I don't want to disappoint you. And it would be easier for me to meet your expectations if I knew what they are."

She blinked and didn't say anything at first. This topic seemed to have taken her entirely by surprise.

"I... to be honest, I had not thought about it like that", she confessed at length. "I have been more worried if I can meet your expectations. And not only yours, but also your people's."

"Forget about the people. I am asking you as a man asks the woman he means to spend his life with... the woman whose mind and heart he hopes to understand like his own", he said to her solemnly and fixed his eyes on her. She looked down and looked young and a little insecure.

"I expect... no, it wouldn't be right to speak of expectations. Rather, I hope that you trust me, and have faith with me. That you always come back to me, even if... if something I've done has made you angry. And that you treat me as a woman, not a child you need to protect. I ask that you are patient with me while I learn to be your queen and a wife", she answered, speaking the words slowly and in a soft voice, though it sounded to him like she gained confidence once more the longer she went on. Then she looked up at him once more, "Back in Emyn Arnen, I spoke with Faramir of what it's like to be married to Éowyn. He told me some very wise things, and... what he said could help me, too. I think as long as long as we are open and honest with one another, we can overcome whatever crosses our path."

Now Éomer halted and smiled at the fair maiden by his side. Their worlds and lives up until now may be different, but it sounded like their hopes and desires were in fact quite similar.

"Then I will tell you what I hope, Lothíriel: I also ask for your trust and faith, and that you let me come back to you, no matter the inconsiderate and sharp things I might say. I can be proud and stubborn, and patience will be your greatest asset when I'm difficult. I hope that you can respect me, but also understand that I will never ask of you what I'm not willing to give back myself", he told her gently, resting his hand on her shoulder. But then his mind sobered, when one more thing rose to his tongue. It did not come out as surely as he'd have liked, for, it was hard for him to say this thing out loud: "And... I hope that you don't... that you don't leave."

When he did speak this fear, he saw them all too clearly in his mind's eye: faces of loved ones who were dead. It was a struggle to speak this request, plead her not to become one of those lost ones, but he had just asked for her confidence – and followed it with a promise that he'd not expect anything from her he was not willing to give back.

Her expression grew soft and tender and she reached to wrap her arms around his neck. Suddenly, by the mere look of her warm, loving eyes, he was relieved, although he felt like he had just revealed something very private and even vulnerable. And he knew Aelfrun might have considered this a weakness in him, but to Lothíriel... the way she looked at him was not changed. She saw him and accepted what was laid bare before her eyes. When he saw the way she gazed at him, _through_ him, he felt like he understood at last what it meant to love – to really _love_ someone. And he knew then all that he was, all that he could become, would be safe with her.

"I will not leave", she whispered softly. "Never."

And with that, despite Himiel's protests, she jumped against him and kissed him, almost desperate in her eagerness. He returned it, feeling a strange mixture of relief and wonder and giddiness in his chest. Who could have thought that things would, in the end, turn out so right for him?

Lothíriel pulled back soon enough – perhaps to make sure Himiel did not try to tear them apart – but she remained close and looked at him with bright, sparkling eyes.

"I think", she said, still speaking quietly, "I think we'll be all right."

* * *

Their conversation in the gardens gave Lothíriel much food for thought. She had not expected Éomer to bring up such a topic, or to ask so frankly what she expected of him. No lord of Gondor would ever have made such a question, and few of the noble men she knew would even concern themselves with the expectations and wants of a woman. But she was glad he had considered this and felt it so important that he would indeed ask her. Now she felt like they understood one another a little better – and, perhaps, were closer, too.

She stayed behind in the garden when her betrothed had gone, wandering the narrow paths and thinking about the things they had spoken. It was something she was not yet used to, how bold and frank he could be even when talking about something so intimate and private. No one had ever trusted her with thoughts and feelings that came from such deep places of the heart.

Lothíriel smiled a little to herself and halted to look at a neat row of young apple trees. One day these would bear fruit, and her ladies in the kitchens would be busy making jams and juices and ciders and pies, and she would walk under the shade of leaves with Éomer by her side and few little children around them... they would sit under these trees in summer and enjoy golden afternoons together. It was such a hopeful picture, she wanted to laugh.

The princess continued to walk and thought again of the present rather than the days to come. She saw now that she and her king were better matched than she had at first realised – that she had things to give to him, that he had needs she could meet and fulfill. She was not so hopelessly inferior, without anything worthwhile to offer, as she had first believed. And she could do this thing in ways he had, perhaps, not realised anyone would be ready or capable. If he had the power to lift her from the shadows she had always felt circling about her, so could she bring light and happiness into his life.

Her mind grew more sombre when she recalled the look on his face and the sound of his voice when he had asked her not to leave. Just thinking of it made her heart ache; though he rarely let it show, war had taken much from him and his grief was not forgotten. And when it surfaced, it was raw even in its smallest shapes. It only made sense, though in a sad, painful way, that every new person to enter his life and gain his affection would make him wonder if this one too he would have to bury.

Truly, those wounds went deep. Quietly, Lothíriel wondered if Éomer's friends knew of it – or if he had ever revealed this to anybody else. Had he even meant to show her? But whether or not it was so, it was known to her now, and she found that she loved him better for it.

She took seat on a low wooden bench and gazed across the garden. A thought occurred to her: would life be difficult with a man scarred by war? This was something she hadn't even asked Aredhel, and Lothíriel doubted if her sister-in-law could answer. For Elphir her brother had not lost as much as Éomer, or been as hard pressed with such burden of duty. Now she thought of their picnic and how bluntly he had spoken of things that ailed him. She didn't believe for one minute that Éomer would ever intentionally hurt her, but who knew how those demons might combine with the deeply felt fear of losing yet another loved one?

On the other hand, had that ever stopped her from loving him? From the very first moment they had met, she had perceived a sadness in him, and known that this man had phantoms. How dearly she had wanted to see him smile... it appeared that she was not so bad at doing just that, if these days spent in Edoras implied anything. And Éomer was clearly aware of what troubled him, unlike some haunted men who went to their graves as full of pain as the day their wounds had been inflicted. Perhaps, once they had a chance to build their life together, he would come to trust hope rather than to expect worst – even heal and become a happier man.

Lothíriel let out a small sigh. Now she saw there was still much they should talk about, and both of them might have issues that they didn't perhaps perceive clearly themselves. But then, they had all the years of their lives together to figure it out – to explore the wilderness in one another, map it and maybe tame some of it.

Content with these thoughts, she rose again and headed for the Hall. Himiel rejoined her once more, having spent the time her mistress was lost in her thoughts exploring the garden. But before Lothíriel could reach Meduseld, she saw a familiar face approaching: Amrothos came, stepping so lightly it almost looked like he was bouncing. His grin was cheerful and excited, and she wondered what had caused this mood.

"Sister! Guess where we're going in a couple days of time!" he exclaimed merrily, coming to her side and claiming her arm in his own.

"To the moon?" she inquired, lifting her eyebrows.

"Of course not, you silly thing! We're going hunting with Éomer and his company!" he announced, beaming as though he had just revealed her that he had gained some great victory. "I've been harping at him of it for days now, and finally he relents!"

Lothíriel was a little surprised to hear of this at first, but when she considered the matter, she decided perhaps she shouldn't be. She had rather lived in her own happy little bubble with Éomer and her ongoing expedition to the culture and people of Rohan, so it was no wonder that few other things took her notice.

"What a lovely guest you are", she noted wryly, "pestering our host with your demands."

"We're not just guest, sister dear. He's to be our kinsman – he already is, by Faramir's marriage to Éowyn – and Éomer takes pestering very well", Amrothos said unaffectedly. "Besides, it is not fair that only you get to have a good time here."

"Strange. One might almost think you believed you're on a holiday", she quipped back. Banter with Amrothos was, as always, rather amusing.

"I wish!" he said, casting a look of one long suffering to the heavens. "After this, I will never agree to chaperone anyone again."

"And I should imagine any young lady would be glad to know they won't have to bear you following them around and moan and groan while you're at it!" Lothiriel said to her brother. Before he could invent a comeback, she asked him, "Now, what is this business with hunting?"

The mention of his current favourite topic lit up his eyes once more.

"We are set to leave as soon as preparations are done and the weather allows. It shouldn't take more than a couple of days. I have come to hear there are some very good hunting grounds near to the feet of White Mountains, and Éomer even agreed any game we might be able to bring down would be well served at your betrothal feast. He even spoke of camping out there for a night!" Amrothos talked away happily. Of her brothers, he had always been the most eager huntsman, so she decided this had only been inevitable. Lothíriel did not mind the idea of the hunt: it would give them a chance to spend some time together while Éomer's advisers were away, to train with Moonmaid, and she could see more of Rohan.

It was going to be a good thing, she was sure of it.

* * *

Much to Amrothos' dismay, the next day came with heavy rain and Edoras and the plains around the capital were veiled within grey curtain; such weather meant the hunt had to be postponed for at least a day or two. The air smelt moist and earthy and there was chill in it, but inside the Hall, fires and torches burned and the red shawl made of finest Rohirric wool, given to her by Éomer, kept Lothíriel quite warm against the weather. She also began to think perhaps it wasn't just because of eager bridegroom's generosity that he had ordered local dressmakers to provide her with new gowns.

Previously, he had spoken of trying to make some time for her that evening, but when afternoon grew late, he came to her and apologetically said he still had some reports to read.

Her mind worked fast, trying to find a solution. She had looked forward to this all day and would not let it just pass.

"Do you think it would much bother you if I and Himiel sat with you a while? I had hoped to get a closer look on the royal book collection", she said carefully.

"Of course you are welcome, but I'm afraid I won't be much of a companion", Éomer said, though something about his expression seemed to imply he wasn't at all displeased. Scýne had said he was an open book for those who knew how to read him, and Lothíriel felt she was starting to understand what the captain's wife had meant.

So, as the rain continued outside, she and her maid joined the King of Rohan in his study. It was wonderful room, as most rooms were in Meduseld. It seemed rather inviting too, more so than her own father's study back in Dol Amroth. A merry fire spread warmth and light, furniture had been expertly carved, there was a small pan next to fireplace in case he worked late and wished to boil some tea for himself, and hangings on the walls made the place pleasing to the eye.

Her king was already engrossed in his work, which he only interrupted to gesture them to take seats. So the two women did: Himiel produced a piece of embroidery and Lothíriel spent a moment in choosing herself a book. Then quiet fell in the royal study as all three focused in their occupations. Well, at least two of them did, for Lothíriel found herself looking at her betrothed more often than not, while the book lay in her lap and was ignored more often than not. He was reading his reports, occasionally scribbling down something, and then at times he stared in the distance with a frown on his face. In his hand, he turned over a finely made quill, which had perhaps originally come from the feathers of some great bird of prey. She noted the warm shades of red that appeared in it when he toyed with the object. Lothíriel wondered: how could something so ordinary hold her transfixed like this?

Eventually, he seemed to realise he was being watched. Éomer looked up from the scroll he had been reading and gave her a look that was probably supposed to be stern, but she could see the warm glint lurking in his eyes.

"You are distracting me, lady", he told her solemnly.

"I am? I was just sitting here quietly", Lothíriel answered innocently.

"Yes! I was already having trouble with these sums and you're not helping", he complained and threw his quill on the desk. He rubbed his face in frustration.

"Why don't you let me take a look at them? I admit I don't have a head for it like Erchirion does, but I'm not entirely hopeless, either", she offered, putting aside her book.

"Get here then and save me from these odious numbers", Éomer said, moving his chair so that she could come and bring hers to his side.

"When Rohan is in need, Gondor will march to war", she announced, making him laugh softly under his breath as he pulled the sheet so that they could both examine it.

It took their shared effort, but eventually numbers started to make sense once more. She could see Éomer's eyes lighting up as he scribbled fast.

"Ah, now I see. Of course", he muttered and made the final calculations on the sheet. Then he looked at her and smiled, "Thank you for your help."

Perhaps he sought for her hand, to squeeze it gently in gratitude, but he did not find it in the expected place, and his fingers slipped. And then before she knew it, his hand was on her thigh.

Something curled and flexed in her stomach and she breathed in, but air did not seem to sustain her just then properly. It wasn't like he hadn't touched her boldly before, but never in that particular place and now there was something more to it, and perhaps it impacted her so because of the way he looked at her the moment he realised where he had put his hand. His eyes had grown dark, possessive, _hungry_ ; he regarded her as though she was already his own.

It was a look that could ignite and consume, and who knew what would have happened if they had been alone just then? But Himiel was not so lost in her embroidery that she hadn't noticed how the very air had charged in the room.

"My lady", she spoke up in a high, displeased voice. Thankfully, the desk was between them and the woman did not see where exactly Éomer had put his hand. At the sound of her voice, he quickly withdrew it, but the fire in his eyes was not gone.

"We were just doing the sums", Lothíriel stammered at last, pulling her chair away from the desk. She didn't dare to look at Éomer again; in her chest, her heart was still racing. Himiel pursed her lips and looked like she would sooner have believed her mistress if she had said she was in the possession of all three Silmarils.

"I think we should retire, my lady. It is getting late", Himiel said in a firm voice that did not suffer arguments. Lothíriel heard the warning in it and knew that if she acted difficult now, then her maid would not hesitate to report her transgressions to Father. Then she would be in for the scolding of a lifetime – perhaps even face the possibility of him reconsidering the betrothal.

Deciding it was best just to comply right now, she rose and smoothed down her skirts. Both for her own sake and that of Himiel, she only rested her hand on Éomer's shoulder very briefly and kissed his cheek. Never had she understood before now how dangerous a single touch could be!

"Good night, then. Don't let the numbers keep you up too late", she spoke softly, and towards the end of the sentence, she was not sure anymore if she was even talking about numbers.

"Good night", he answered, and once more his eyes pierced her, though the hunger had become more of a longing. And with it, that thing returned: loneliness sat on his shoulders as though a mantle when he resigned himself to another long night alone. Her heart yearned, but Himiel had already taken her by arm and was leading her out.

The maid did not let her arm go until they had reached the Hall, which was quiet at this hour, though not empty. In Sindarin, the older woman spoke to her, "You act too boldly with your bridegroom, my lady. This would not be acceptable if we were in Gondor."

"But we aren't, Himiel. Rohan is different", Lothíriel said quickly, glancing at her guardian with some exasperation. It had been only a matter of time the maid would bring this up.

"Rohan may be whatever it is, but this does not release you of your obligations, my lady. If you get burned here, then your lord father shall be most displeased", Himiel said sternly.

"What of my obligations to this land? I'm not marrying just any noble lord of the Mark. Éomer is king and I would do ill trying to diminish his authority by imposing our Gondorian notions on him and his people", Lothíriel argued. They had reached the doors now, and guards opened them for the pair. As ever, three of them followed suit to escort the King's bride. Outside, it was dark, but at least the rain had ceased a little. Without the light of the moon or the fires that usually burned through the night, it was almost pitch black.

"I'm not telling you to impose anything on him. I'm asking you to be patient, my lady", Himiel said, sounding as calm as ever.

Lothíriel sighed and said nothing. How could she tell her maid how anxious she felt – how each hour seemed long as a lifetime before spring would come. It seemed to her that all her life she had remained half in shadow, often forgotten and left behind by others, and not really living before Éomer had turned his face towards her and brought sudden daylight. Now she wanted nothing as much as to abide fully in that light and let go of the doubts of her childhood.

They reached Éothain and Scýne's home just in time before rain grew harder again. Himiel aided her to prepare for bed, but they spoke very little, and soon the maid was gone. Then Lothíriel curled up in her bed and listened to the rain, and it was not long before she was dreaming of spring and of golden hair spilling on her breast.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Here is a new chapter! I hope you like it. :)

I hadn't really planned the conversation Éomer and Lothíriel have in this chapter - it rather grew on itself when I started to think of the idea of him and who he could actually ask for marriage advice. I admit I'm rather fond of that exchange, and I think it's important for them, too. They are from different cultures, after all. It's especially meaningful for Lothíriel, because I think this conversation finally makes her understand how well matched they actually are.

Some of you, my dear readers, expressed your annoyance with Aelfrun. I admit it surprised me a little, because I hadn't expected people to react so strongly to her! I guess it means I have succeeded in establishing her as a rival and an antagonist? :D

I hope you have a pleasant weekend, and if you got time, let me know what you think of this chapter!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Nerdanel -** Oh my, I hadn't realised I had written her as so hate-inducing! :D Does that mean I've succeeded, though? I'm glad you liked the chapter, anyway!

 **EStrunk -** I hope to explore her character a little more, though! But I must confess I am feeling more and more pleased that people feel so strongly about her.

Also I'm glad you liked that part! It's rather precious to me as well. :)

 **Tibblets -** That she certainly seems to be!

I hope you enjoy your time there. :) I've always wanted to visit Florence.

 **Anon -** I'm thinking I may have succeeded with her better than I realised! Anyway, what you say is right indeed. It would be a very bad thing for Éomer to just retreat from the betrothal, and I think that deep down, Aelfrun knows it would be a political catastrophe both for him and Rohan if he just revoked the betrothal. However, I'd say she's too angry and stubborn to give in now, even though she knows what she's against.

 **Jo -** Glad to hear you liked it! :) We'll see how it goes with Aelfrun. ;)

 **Wondereye -** Well, as long as Aelfrun is not actively going against her, I don't know how Lothíriel could wisen up. As for Amrothos, I don't think he even knows Aelfrun exists.


	12. Chapter 12

The night that followed, Éomer slept little and poorly. It seemed to him that _she_ was there with him in the darkness, and all he could think of was her. The supple firmness of her thigh under his hand, her heat seeping through her clothing, and the way she had not cowered from his greedy stare... rather, there had seemed to be a response in her eyes. And he knew that if Himiel had not been in the study with them, something irrevocable would surely have happened.

Béma, the months between now and spring had never felt longer! For so long, he felt like he had lived only to half of his capacity – and not even for himself but others, as though he was but a tool for the realm to wield, until use and old age wore him down utterly. Truth was, as he now saw it, that he had been lost, unanchored, a ship without sails. But now that he had hope of happiness and having someone by his side who responded to him in a way no one else ever had, he was anxious to step into the light and live not only for Rohan, but for himself too. He was lost no more.

Éomer gave up his attempt to sleep just before dawn. Hoping that going out for a ride might help to calm his racing mind, he quickly dressed and strode outside.

Meduseld was still quiet, for the household was yet in sleep. Only night guards were around at this time and a few of them joined his company; even something as simple as an early morning ride he could not do alone.

But in the stables, fires were burning, as they ever did through day and night. Stablemen on duty had seats there and held mugs of tea in their hands when he arrived, bowing at their lord and ready to assist if needed. The most prized horses in the capital did not go unguarded for a single minute, and stable hands were always ready to prepare them if the King had to ride out in haste. Like he usually did when going for one of his morning rides, Éomer saddled Firefoot himself, murmuring soft nonsense to his stallion. His equine friend sought his hands and pockets for treats, making him laugh softly under his breath as he produced an apple for the horse. In some years time, he might be doing this with his son – Lothíriel's child. The sheer idea was so enormous, it was bewildering to grasp. Family was something he had given occasional thought at times, but it was with her that the idea had started to live, to become hopes and images and expectations in his mind. She would be a wonderful mother, loving and wise, but she'd be strong, too. No child of hers would be left behind to live as an orphan, not by her choice at least.

Wryly he smiled to himself and patted Firefoot's neck. One had to wonder whether Lothíriel knew herself how very dear she had become to him – how there was no future he could imagine now without her in it.

Dawn's grey hour was at hand when he and his guards rode out of the gates of the city, and in eastern horizon, faint glowing strip bespoke the rising of the Sun. It grew as they rode across the fields and in the air, there was the smell of dew and grass. It would be a fair day, and if tomorrow dawned the same, then they would leave the capital for the planned hunting trip. He let Firefoot set the pace and the stallion, eager to race, threw them into a full gallop. Béma, how joyful he felt! No matter the frustration of having to wait, or the months ahead that would surely dampen his mood, in this moment he was full of hope and gratefulness for the good and fair things that had come to him after so many years of strife.

When the Sun was rising, his little company turned and headed back to Edoras again. The city basked in the light of the new day, smoke was rising from chimneys, and above all Meduseld glittered. With a smile, he thought of his bride; perhaps she was only just waking now, her raven hair spread across the pillow and sleep still laying softly on her cheeks. He wondered what it would be like to have her by his side every night... if she preferred to keep her distance, or if she would welcome him close by herself and snuggle into his arms... the image in his mind grew, and then he was picturing how it would be like to rest his head against her breast, to feel her soft skin against his weathered cheek...

He shook his head to clear it of this tempting but dangerous line of thought. If this was how Éowyn had felt about Faramir, then he could surely understand her bravery in leaving behind all she had known in a wholly new way.

The city was waking as he rode through it and people shouted their greetings to him. With a smile he would answer them and lift his hand. From days long past, he could recall Théoden making his way through the folk of the city, meeting them eye to eye and sometimes stopping to talk with them. That was the kind of king he wanted to be, too.

In the courtyard he dismounted and, after patting Firefoot's neck as thanks for a good ride, left the stallion with his squire, Elfhelm's nephew. He cast a look around and meant to head for the Hall, but there near the steps of his home he saw Aelfrun. At once, he felt himself tensing in apprehension.

"Have you come again to lecture me on what a foolish mistake I'm making?" he asked her warily when she approached him.

To his surprise, Aelfrun shook her head and lowered her eyes. He had never seen her looking so demure.

"No, Éomer. I just... I wanted to say I'm sorry", she started. If possible, her words astonished him even more. Now she lifted up her face and there was a strange, vehement look in her bright green eyes, "I have been so angry with both you and her. But I did not wish to alienate you or lose your regard."

His heart softened, for Éomer had never been one to hold long grudges, especially when the other party showed such decency.

"It's all right, Aelfrun. I know I disappointed you, and for that I am sorry. It was never my intention to hurt your feelings. But for what it's worth, you'll always have my friendship", he said for his part. It was as though the strain left him with these words, much to his relief. He had been worried that Aelfrun would not easily give up her anger, and that she would use it somehow to hurt Lothíriel.

"I know you didn't mean ill. And... at the very least, I suppose I owe you the courtesy of respecting your choice", she said in a low voice. Once more she lowered her eyes and he could tell it was hard for her to say these words out loud. It made him appreciate her gesture all the more.

"Thank you, Aelfrun. It means a lot to me", he said warmly to her and reached to rest his hand on her shoulder. "She's a gentle soul, you see. And she spent so long thinking I'd never notice her or respond to her feelings. But now I see that she... Aelfrun, she has my heart and I love her more deeply than anyone before her."

He did not say these things out of wanting to injure her more, though he didn't think they would cut so deep, for she hardly loved him the way Lothíriel did. But be that as it may, he needed to make her see that this was what he wanted and what he chose, too, even if he and his princess had come together by a rather strange chance.

Aelfrun's expression faltered a little and she looked away momentarily. Perhaps she did feel more for him than he gave her credit for, but even so, that horse had left the stables long since.

"Well, that's something I thought I'd never see. Éomer of the Riddermark, boldest of Rohirrim, wrapped around the little finger of a slip of a princess! Times truly change", said Aelfrun, and she smiled wryly when she spoke these words.

He couldn't help but laugh as an answer.

"Aye, they do. Believe me, no one is more surprised than I am", he said, smiling as he spoke. Now his heart grew light in his chest and he dared to think everything would turn out all right with Aelfrun, and his dear princess would not have to suffer from jealous attacks.

Perhaps, for this once, things would go as smoothly as he hoped.

* * *

Come the morning, Lothíriel's mind and heart were bright and glad. She hummed softly as she prepared for the new day, and when she joined Scýne for breakfast, the red-haired woman smiled warmly at her and suggested she and Leoflaed would today show her how to weave the sacred ribbons used at hand-fasting, to which Lothíriel gladly agreed. She felt like her happy mood could light up the world.

When she and Scýne headed for Meduseld once more, she had hard time keeping her pace even. She was eager to catch her king before the day's labours occupied him fully. Near the courtyard, Scýne lagged behind a little, exchanging words with some friend of hers. But the princess hurried ahead, unwilling to waste a single minute.

However, when she was nearing her destination, she saw something she had not expected: Éomer was standing close to the stables, that woman with red-gold hair was with him, and he was laughing heartily at something she had said. At once, she felt an uneasy sensation in her breast; she had not forgotten the sour looks this woman had directed at her at any given chance, nor the brief exchange of words some days ago.

But then her betrothed turned and made for the Hall, and the woman he had been talking to slipped away. He had not seen Lothíriel, she realised. Why did it cause such a sinking feeling?

Lothíriel shook her head and hurried along, despite Himiel's protests, and she caught up with Éomer before he reached the steps leading to Meduseld. She grabbed him a little desperately by waist and felt him startle, but then he saw it was her.

"Good morning to you as well", he said warmly, and his eyes glimmered in good humour. He was in high spirits and somehow it made her own uneasy heart even more confused.

"Morning", she whispered and held him tight for as long as it took Himiel to reach them and announce her disapproval. Then Lothíriel removed her arms from around him, though she did it with some reluctance.

"Is everything all right?" he asked her, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"I'm fine. I just wanted to wish you a good day", she answered and managed to summon a smile to her face. It was silly to feel apprehensive – all he had done was laugh at the strange woman's words. And wasn't it good that he was laughing? She remembered how solemn she had thought him before, and how dearly she had wanted to make him smile.

"And I'm sure it will be so", he told her and offered her one of those charming grins that had a tendency of turning her knees into water. Despite Himiel, he quickly kissed her brow and wished her a pleasant day before they parted, and quietly she watched him go. He looked so at ease as he jumped up the steps two at a time, his feet so light one might have suspected his feet might not come back to ground at all.

He vanished inside and Lothíriel turned. She saw Scýne arriving at last, but she also noted a certain head of red-gold curls. The strange woman had not yet departed, but was talking with an elderly lady she knew to be wife to one of Éomer's council members. Lothíriel knew she was never going to get a better chance to find out who this woman was.

"Scýne", she spoke to her friend in a soft voice as the captain's wife came to stand by her side, "who is that woman?"

She nodded discreetly with her head towards the person of her interest. Scýne picked up her meaning right away.

"That is Aelfrun, my lady. She is a daughter to one of the local minor lords", said Scýne quietly, linking her arm with that of Lothíriel. "He used to serve as a high-ranking lieutenant under Elfhelm's command, but was injured severely some years ago. He had to retire from riding in the éored and so he has been dealing furs since then. It is prosperous trade these days, especially with our renewed ties with Gondor."

"She's very beautiful", Lothíriel commented, trying not to stare directly at Aelfrun. But it was hard, for perhaps the only woman among Rohirrim who surpassed this lady in beauty was Éowyn herself.

"Aye, she is. Young men of the Mark have been courting her since she turned sixteen, but she keeps turning them down", Scýne said. They were walking slowly now, making their way towards the Hall.

"But why? Surely woman like that could have any man she wanted", said the princess, frowning a little.

"That is the point, my lady. She doesn't want just any man, but one very particular – one who has no equal", said Éothain's wife, lowering her voice. Her meaning was clear enough, and if possible, Lothíriel felt even more uneasy than before.

"You see, she's the youngest among four sisters", Scýne continued, knowing her audience was more interested than ever, "I suppose it is not the easiest way to grow up, always having to fight for time and attention. They're all held as great beauties, and her sisters have married well. The eldest was wife to late Lord Dúnhere, the second is daughter-in-law to Marshal Erkenbrand, and the third recently married Elfhelm's new captain. I think it's a fair assumption she feels like she must at least be equal to them – but preferably rise above them."

Lothíriel stared on the ground, mulling over these words. A sense of apprehension kept growing inside her bones and it was worse now than before, when she had not known the woman's name. A part of her even wished she could forget what Scýne had just said.

"Does Éomer know her well?" she asked at length, and the words came out strained.

"That you must ask him, not me", Scýne replied solemnly. But then she halted and looked straight at the princess. "You have nothing to worry about. He is the most faithful man you'll ever meet, and it is clear he's very fond of you."

"I don't doubt him", said Lothíriel and frowned. "It's her that I don't trust."

"Do you wish me to talk to her?" Scýne asked carefully.

"No, no. I don't think that would be a good idea. I feel... it would probably just encourage her. Make her believe this is some kind of a competition. The best course of action is to ignore her for all practical purposes", Lothíriel said slowly. She knew she shouldn't pay attention to Aelfrun, but a small voice kept mumbling at the back of her head. It was the sound of her insecurity and doubts, but she was not yet strong enough to silence it.

"Very well, my lady", said her friend in a soft, gentle voice. "Even so, I think you should talk to Éomer."

Lothíriel hemmed under her breath. Scýne could take it in whichever way she wanted, but the princess was not so certain she should go and talk to her betrothed about this. It might make him think she didn't trust him, and that was the last thing she wanted to imply. And perhaps she was just being paranoid; there was no proof whatsoever that this Aelfrun in fact meant to do anything to injure her and Éomer's relationship. For all she knew, her horselord could think her utterly foolish, and thus unfit for the position of a queen. Hadn't she promised him she would try not to be a silly goose?

So she decided to let it be, and wait for the matter to settle itself. For when spring came, it would be her standing by Éomer's side, no one else.

* * *

That same afternoon, Éomer sought for his friend Amrothos, and was informed the prince had gone to spar with some Riders from the royal household. So the young king directed his feet to the way of the training grounds – a place he frequented as often as he was able. Remaining indoors could get vexing at times and he had not forgotten his own origins as a Rider and a warrior. Training was a good way out let out some steam that would build up during the long, tedious hours he spent in the council chamber or his study. Not to mention, one never knew when alarm might come and he did not want to lose his edge, in case he would have to ride to battle unexpectedly.

The sparring session was, as he evaluated, close to ending. Amrothos was already soaked with sweat in the heat of afternoon, and his opponents seemed to be so as well. Halting to follow the session, Éomer deemed that his friend was an excellent swordsman, agile and swift. He was also fond of adding little flourishes to his strikes and parries, as though he couldn't decide whether he was on a battlefield or a dancing floor. But there was deadly precision too, and the young king knew well that the prince did more than just a dance and song when he was against a real enemy.

When the fighters ended their sparring, they laughed and exchanged friendly taunts between one another. Amrothos drank heartily from a water-skin offered to him by his previous opponent, and having splashed his head with some of the cooling liquid, he noticed the Lord of the Mark observing the scene.

"Have you come to take a beating, too?" Amrothos asked, grinning as he spoke. He conveniently forgot that of all the times they had sparred together, he had been able to get a draw only once. For Éomer did not waste his time in flourishes, but aimed always for a swift, clean kill.

"As amusing as it would be to watch you trying to give me one, I actually came to ask you something", he quipped, throwing his friend his shirt, which he had hung on a hook nearby while training.

"Really?" Amrothos inquired curiously and pulled the shirt over his head.

"Aye", Éomer said and thought of how to put his question. While he had resolved his friend might not be the best source of advice in concerning Lothiriel's expectations, it didn't mean he was entirely useless, either. Amrothos would know plenty of their people's marital customs.

So he cleared his throat and looked at the dark-haired man, "Amrothos, are there any Gondorian practices considering marriage I should know about?"

The prince scratched his chin and looked thoughtful.

"I can't really think of anything particular", he said at length, running a hand throuhg his hair. "To tell you the truth, my friend, I'm not sure you need my help in that matter. I don't know what it is you're doing, but my sister seems to be liking it very much. I can't recall when I've last seen her so happy."

Éomer could not help but grin when he heard that. It was good to know he had the right approach.

A slight crease appeared on Amrothos' brow.

"There is one thing, though. Among the nobles of our land – and generally anyone who can afford it – it's common for betrothed couples to exchange rings. I do not know if she has a ring for you. But I'm sure she'd like it if you gave her one", he explained to the Rohir, who listened in silence and nodded. Among his own belongings, he did not have anything that would suit her. He just had a ring inherited from his father and another he had taken from Théoden's belongings as a reminder of his late uncle; both were obviously too big for her. Mother's jewellery had gone to Éowyn, as it should be. However, perhaps there was something in the royal treasury that would suit his bride; while he had never examined the jewels that had belonged to past queens of Rohan. He bristled a little when he remembered how many valuables and heirlooms of his House had gone into Wormtongue's hands, and even to Isengard. Though all those things had been recovered since and cold metal did not seem to bear any memory of his enemy's touch, he had also been eager to cast them out of his mind and let them rest in the darkness of the treasury. But perhaps Lothíriel's touch, her goodness and light, would purify these things of all remembrance of Saruman and his henchman.

Discarding the thought of the hateful pair, Éomer looked straight at Amrothos again.

"I didn't expect to say this out loud, but now I must admit not everything that comes out of your mouth is utter nonsense", he said humorously, much to his friend's amusement. In a more solemn tone, he added, "Thank you, Amrothos. I should be happy to follow this advice."

The carefree prince grinned.

"Always happy to help", he said cheerfully and drank a little more from his water-skin. When he had swallowed a huge gulp, he wiped his mouth and continued to add, "You know, if year ago someone had said you would get in so deep with my little sister, I would have laughed at their face. I didn't think she was your type at all – or vice versa."

Hearing that, Éomer responded with a crooked smile.

"Maybe you just don't see her clearly enough", he simply stated. He had not forgotten Amrothos' hysterical fit of laughter when he had first told him of the accidental betrothal.

"I suppose you're not so wrong about that. She keeps her thoughts very close to herself, even when she's with her family", said the prince pensively. Now an unusual expression touched his usually cheerful features, "Or maybe we just don't usually listen to her."

"Well, I do not mean to make that mistake", Éomer said in a low voice.

Amrothos looked at him in an unusually sombre way. It almost seemed like he knew something that the Rohir did not.

"No", said the Amrothian prince, "I don't think you will."

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Here's an update for the weekend! I hope you all have a nice day. :)

This chapter also offers a little more information on Aelfrun. Hopefully, it also makes her motivations more understandable. When I write antagonistic characters, I try to also give them a reason why they are behaving the way they do. But I also think people can be irrational, even to the point where their own reasoning seems perfectly valid and sensible to themselves, while it really isn't.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **EStrunk -** Yes, it surprised me a little too when that chapter emerged and they started to get that deep! But it seemed to belong, too. And you are correct - marriage should do them both good!

 **Jo -** I'm glad you liked it! :)

 **Wondereye -** Indeed! I think it should help them to build a strong relationship.

 **Anon -** It will make them stronger - if they just let it. But that might be hard as long as they're not on the same page about certain issues.

As for Himiel, she does best with what she has. I think she probably has her own prejudices about Rohirrim. On the other hand, she probably thinks Lothíriel has all the time in the world to adopt Rohirric customs after the wedding.


	13. Chapter 13

The morning came as fair and bright as ever, much to Amrothos' delight. With such weather there was no reason to postpone the hunting trip, and so Scýne and Éothain's household was rather in an uproar while they made ready. Both their host and hostess would join the party – the captain for his duties, and his wife as company for Lothíriel. Himiel would stay behind, as she did not have a keen appreciation for hunting, but Scýne had promised to chaperone for the princess, and it seemed that the Rohirric lady was in Himiel's mind appropriate shield against Éomer's bolder approaches.

They had got up early, and so they arrived to the courtyard of Meduseld when the sun was yet rising. There Lothíriel was surprised, because she hadn't expected so many people would be participating. In addition to Éomer and his Amrothian guests, with their guards and friends, some of the noblemen of Edoras with family members were coming, too. When she noted this to her overly excited brother, he just grinned.

"The more the merrier", he said happily, gazing around himself eagerly. He was rather dashing in his hunting attire; he wore a dark brown jerkin over his blue tunic, his breeches were dark grey and his boots supple leather. He had brought his bow and a hunting knife borrowed from the armoury of Meduseld. As ever, his hair was a fanciful cloud about his head and his cheerful mood glimmered in every smile. No wonder there was a small band of local ladies giggling nearby.

Lothíriel shook her head and looked around, searching for her king. But he had not yet come, though Firefoot was being lead outside from the stables. There were so many people, she quickly lost her count of how many companions they would have for the trip. Horses were being readied, servants bustled as they loaded last few objects to supply wagons, and hounds bayed and barked, sensing they would soon get to hunt game. Everywhere it seemed were blond Rohirrim – guards of the King's Company, members of the household, and local nobility as well, talking excitedly about the day ahead.

Suddenly, her eyes fell on one person she had not expected – or hoped – to see. There by a tall chestnut stallion stood Aelfrun herself! Arrayed in green riding attire with short skirt-like hem split on the sides and russet breeches, she was quite the vision. The form-fitting cut of her array emphasised her curvaceous body, her shining mane was in braids, and when she mounted her stallion, she looked so stunning it might break one's heart. As if to add insult to injury, she handled the high-spirited steed as skilfully as any Rohirric master rider.

But then Lothíriel's eyes were torn away from the woman, for a tall figure dressed in green was quickly approaching her. There came Éomer, tall and golden and smiling so brightly that her heart immediately sped into a mad staccato.

"Good morning!" he greeted her and lifted her in the air, looking so cheerful and happy that all her misgivings were forgotten in his shine.

"Good morning", she answered a little breathlessly. He was truly irresistible when he was like this.

"Are you ready for our trip?" Éomer asked her, lowering her down before Amrothos' wrath descended on them.

"Yes, very much so", she answered and gave him a smile. Once more, her own mind grew light and hopeful. She was silly to let doubts dismay her when her king was so warm and gentle and full of joy.

"We should be able to leave in a few moments", he told her and turned to say a few words to Éothain. Then he escorted her to where both their horses were standing; Moonmaid had been brought to stand by Firefoot. She would ride right next to her king.

Somehow, the thought consoled her even more.

He helped her to mount the mare, and soon enough he leaped into saddle as well. Until now, the scene in the courtyard had seemed a little bit chaotic, but the moment Éomer mounted his horse, everyone took their positions, and Lothíriel saw there was logic to this madness.

They began to move then, riding down through the city. The King and his company went first and the rest of the party followed. Last of all, supply wagons came; they would travel at their own pace and once they reached the appointed place, they would establish a camp for the hunters.

So they rode across the fields and towards the White Mountains and their roots. Lothíriel travelled by Éomer's side and she was glad, as this gave her an opportunity to talk with him for a lengthy period. At times, Amrothos would join the conversation; he too rode with them, and he remained ever anxious to get to the actual hunting.

Her thoughts were only briefly given to one participant she'd rather send home, but as Aelfrun didn't ride anywhere near to the front, the princess could not dwell long on her.

As they had left Edoras so early, it was only midday when they reached the woods. At that time, most of the company was dying to get to hunting. Dogs barked more fiercely than ever and a man Lothíriel guessed was Rohirric equivalent of master of game along with his subordinates was busy making the last preparations for the activity ahead. She smiled to herself: she had participated hunts before back in Dol Amroth and recognised well the electricity and expectation that heavily rested in the air.

"So, I take it you're really not going to join us?" Éomer asked her, not out of really needing to know but more because just wanting to talk.

"No, not at all. I'd just be on your way. And I always felt if I should take a weapon in my hands, I would be most likely to cause harm to myself or anyone unwise enough to come too close", she said with a wry smile.

He let out a low laugh.

"I see. Well, I shall try not to be overly engaged by the hunt. Game is here whenever I wish to pursue it, but you I have to wait for until spring", he said and looked at her with those warm dark eyes of his, and she felt like drowning in them. Elbereth, she was hopelessly in love.

The whole affair was about as exciting as could be expected. She had been to hunts before, and so she knew what would commence. When the hounds were released and those eager to hunt charged forward, she and Scýne and a few Riders tasked with guarding them rode at a slower pace. But even if the hunt itself was not to her any particular interest, Lothíriel rather enjoyed simply looking around herself and admiring the things she saw. The woods here seemed older and thicker than back in Dol Amroth – and wilder, too. When looking around herself, she could easily believe the strange stories she had heard about what had happened during the Battle of Helm's Deep, and how the forest itself had come to fight.

As it happened, she didn't see any moving trees – which was probably for the best – but she did have a good time. Scýne was glad to tell her about the plants that grew here, teaching her their names in Rohirric and explaining how they were used in daily life. Meanwhile, the sounds of the hunt carried from afar, dogs were barking and horns sounded from time to time. Lothíriel imagined her brother was very much in his element, racing through the woods with a bow in his hand.

Éomer had promised not to spend the whole day in the woods, and he kept his word: after a few hours, he returned with some of his own Riders to the edge of the forest. By then, the supply wagons had arrived and servants were busy setting up the camp.

Her king was smiling when he emerged from the woods. Dressed in a green tunic and brown breeches, a rider's bow attached to his saddle, and his golden hair streaming down his shoulders, he looked like a spirit of the forest, young and fell and as wild as the land under leaves. As often happened when she saw him, Lothíriel felt like a lovesick fool, ready to swoon by his feet.

Éomer slid down, his movement swift and fluid, and then came to her. scooping her up without hesitation or delay. With Amrothos and Himiel away, he dared to be so bold. Lothíriel exclaimed in laughter as she took support of his shoulders and bent down her head to kiss him.

"Did the Huntsman send you from the woods to snatch me away, strange rider?" she asked him with a smile. He laughed softly as an answer.

"I came of my own accord, fair maiden", he said in a low, husky tone, "but I do intend to snatch you."

"Well then, what are you waiting for?" she inquired and kissed him once more.

As the woods were fair in afternoon's golden light, they went there for a walk, and Éomer told her about the hunt, while Scýne, being more lenient than Lothíriel's usual chaperones, followed some way behind them and did not protest whenever they exchanged affections. He had felled a stag, which had already been sent to the capital for their betrothal feast. Amrothos had pleaded him to stay a bit longer, but the prince had seemed to forget about him soon enough; there were still plenty of game for him to chase in the woods. Éomer laughed heartily when Lothíriel quipped that when a hunt commenced, one might imagine by Amrothos' excitement he had been raised with hounds.

Her betrothed continued his description and idly mentioned the name of Aelfrun; she had been hot on the heels of a boar when he had last seen her. Lothíriel looked down and tried not to appear like her moods were dampened. But even then an unwelcome thought hammered in her head: how could she compare to this beautiful, fearless woman who hunted and rode like one taught by Oromë himself?

She wanted to ask him about her so badly. And she had no doubt he would be honest, as ever. But somehow she couldn't bring herself to utter the words, feeling as though they could somehow bring the woman between them, turn his eyes from his bride to one who was bolder and fairer and stronger. It was foolish, of course, but she could not help it.

Lothíriel was wondering how to bring it up in a way that would sound natural, but it so happened Éomer offered her a gateway to the topic by his own words.

"It feels so odd, dear heart", he proclaimed suddenly, dropping the matter of hunt entirely. "It's only months since we met in the woods of Ithilien and made our betrothal, and yet I already feel like I've known you for years. I never knew how important one person could become in such a short time."

"Life can indeed change very quickly and unexpectedly", she said with a small smile. She looked up at him with some hesitation, "There is... I'd like to ask you something."

"Of course. What is it?" Éomer wanted to know, glancing at her with a curious look.

"I should probably have asked you this before. I just assumed..." she said slowly, worrying her lip for a moment before continuing, "I... I was wondering if... Éomer, when our betrothal took place in Emyn Arnen, I hope it did not force you to give up someone else for my sake."

"No, Lothíriel, it didn't. I was not involved with anyone at the time. Even if that had been the case, I would not have kept it from you", he told her right away. With one hand, he cupped her cheek. "You are the only one, sweet princess. There is no one else."

"I admit that it surprises me you didn't... that you hadn't anyone singled out among the ladies of your own land and mine. From where I was standing at the time, it seemed like there were enough of them to form a line from Harlond to Citadel", she confessed, as though speaking out loud some embarrassing secret.

He let out a coarse little laugh and looked ahead.

"I can only speak for myself, of course", he said wryly, "but truth is that last winter, I simply didn't have time to consider the whole matter. These past five years... everything has been so mad and confusing and uncertain. First I was made Marshal and was fighting a war, and then I had a crown dropped on my head. It was not an easy task to steer us through winter, when half of our crops were destroyed and so many had lost their homes and families... believe me, there was no time for looking for a wife. I had to sacrifice almost my entire life just to keep this country from perishing utterly. As the Third Marshal, it simply didn't seem right to marry when I wasn't sure I'd be alive for much longer."

"But... were you completely alone, then?" she asked timidly. Not that she delighted in hearing about his past alliances, but she couldn't think of other way to find out whether Lady Aelfrun was... well, if he had an eye for her. Aside from just asking of course, but she was not confident enough to do that.

"No, not completely", he admitted at length. "But I assure you, it was nothing serious. I would not have let it go that far. Like I told you... it's hard for me to let myself love. Often I strive against it actively, for too many I've loved have died before their time."

She nodded silently and looked down at her feet. They had come to a small clearing where grass whispered softly in the wind and flowers grew; it would be rather lovely in full summer. The hunt seemed to have moved away, for she even detected the sound of a small stream bubbling somewhere near. She knew the edge of the wood was not far, but even so this little place felt like worlds away from the great plains.

"Why do you ask such things now?" he wanted to know then, bringing her focus back to him. Carefully she looked up at his face.

"It's just... I know the winter will be long for us both, and I'm scared your heart will cool down once we are parted. And I remember how you told me that Rohirric betrothals are much shorter than that. I hope... I hope that you can do this thing the Gondorian way, at least. That you will keep me as your only one, though we are not yet married. For truth is I could not bear to know that I had to share you with someone else", she answered slowly, and the longer she went on, the more unsure she felt. Eventually, she couldn't help but lower her eyes once more.

"Lothíriel", he said steadily, stepping closer and gently tipping her chin up, "Do you really think I would so betray you?"

"No, it's not like that. I trust you. I mean..." she answered, struggling for words. "All this is so wonderful – _you_ are wonderful – and I'm happier than I could have imagined. But even then, at times I feel like it's too good to be true. It's like a dream, and I'm afraid it will end... that you grow tired of me."

She wiped an errant tear from the corner of her eye and hurried to continue, "I know it's silly of me. You are honest and true and you shouldn't have to keep reassuring me. I suppose I'm just... I'm afraid of losing you, too."

Now Éomer's face grew soft once more, and she felt like he understood what she had tried to say. Gently he wrapped both his arms around her and pulled her close. She was eager to hide her face against his chest.

"I wish I could marry you this very night and put these doubts to rest for good", he murmured into her hair.

"I wish that too", she whispered back and closed her eyes tightly. "I'll miss you so much when I have to go back home."

He pulled back so that he could look at her face once more.

"Sweet one, I will try to visit Mundburg at least once before the winter. Twice, if I'm able. Would that be acceptable to you?" he asked her.

"I would like that very much", she told him with a renewed smile and tiptoed into a kiss.

The rest of the hunting party returned just before sunset. Their efforts had been successful and they brought plenty of game back. Amrothos looked like he had thoroughly enjoyed himself – and also intended to continue doing so, judging by how gladly he downed his first mug of ale.

Night went by as cheerfully as could be expected. Boar felled by Aelfrun was roasted on fire and was served with dark beer and loaves of bread. Here and there in the camp, fires were started and companies sat around them, eating and laughing and drinking. Even some music was conjured and the mood was generally quite merry.

Her earlier uneasiness fully banished, Lothíriel too enjoyed herself greatly. She and Éomer had taken seat at one fire and they ate from a shared platter, and once she decreed she didn't like the dark beer so much, he somehow produced a flask of mead for her. When she expressed her surprise, he reached to kiss her temple and murmured against her skin, "Anything for my lady."

The princess smiled to herself. This man was indeed going to spoil her silly.

When they had eaten, they sat there with a company of friends: there were Éothain and Scýne, several other Riders, and Amrothos, too. It was a glad little band and conversations rose, mixing Westron with Rohirric in a rather chaotic fashion. Drink flowed freely, until Amrothos nearly fell into the fire and Éothain decided it was time to take him to bed. But Éomer made use of the commotion and he rose swiftly, pulling his bride after himself. Eagerly she followed him, letting him lead her all the way to the edge of the wood and then into the shade of the trees. A small voice seemed to be speaking in the back of her head, pointing out how dangerous it was to follow this alluring man into a dark wood all alone when they were both heady on mead and beer. Himiel surely would have sent her immediately packing and perhaps insisted them to leave the Mark this very night, had the maid been here. However, Lothíriel found she simply could not resist.

He halted once they were under the cover of trees. The camp site was nearby and its lights and sounds carried over to the shade of night. But then all thought of it left Lothiriel's head, for gently, but with determination, her back was pressed against a great tree, and then lips hungrily claimed her own.

What a kiss it was! In the darkness, they both were bolder than ever before now, grasping tightly at each other first, and then searching, exploring... he was strong and warm and she felt like he was making her just as intoxicated as drink, if not even more so. He lifted her against the tree, to reach her in a better angle, and she longed to be freed of her tangled skirts so that she could get him closer...

Her breath came as ragged gasps, shallow and quick, but still a kiss upon a kiss they shared, remaining closely pressed to the tree in a rather wanton position.

"Are we going to stop?" Lothíriel eventually asked. She certainly knew what option she preferred. There was something primevally seductive about the idea of doing it right here, with the earth under her back and stars above them just as first Men to wake and live in the world must have done in the mists of time.

But Éomer seemed to retain some composure she had long since abandoned.

"I don't particularly want to", he admitted, brushing his hand against her cheek and below her chin. Ever so gently, he ran his fingertips down the hollow of her throat, the joining of her collarbones, and then rested the entire palm against the centre of her chest.

He breathed deeply and went on to speak, "But neither do I want it to happen like this, here. Our first time shouldn't be in the middle of a dark forest where I can't even see you properly or make sure that you are comfortable. Nor I would ruin it by risking the chance we are found and interrupted."

He kissed her once more, but it was sweet and tender now. However, his voice went low and husky when he murmured, "Not to mention, when we are together for the first time, I mean to spend entire night devouring you."

She shivered in pleasure and excitement. Winding her arms around his neck once more, she whispered, "If you continue that, I think there is a fair chance we'll set this forest on fire."

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" he murmured and gave her a positively wicked grin.

"So we'll wait for now?" she asked him.

"For now", he replied, but they both knew it could mean anything, for spring was months away.

He escorted her back to the camp, and as it was late already, he took his bride to her tent. There, holding her hands in his own, he kissed her for a while before bidding her good night.

Even though she knew she could have used the rest, Lothíriel still felt quite anxious when she entered her tent. Her heart and mind were racing on, and thoughts sped so fast in her mind that she could scarcely keep track of them. Over and over her memory returned to the moments before, the bark of the tree against her back, Éomer's hands on her, his mouth pressing eagerly on her own... there was a rather brazen thought of going back after him and jumping on him in his very tent, never mind the fact they had an entire camp around them.

She shook her head, wondering if she would be able to get any sleep while she felt so overexcited.

The noise outside had quieted somewhat, though occasional exclamations and laughter still rose at times. Lothíriel undid her riding gown, which was simple enough and required no particular help, and then sat down to brush her hair. Did she only imagine so, or did her hair in fact feel softer and smoother here? Was there something in the water of the Mark that Dol Amroth lacked? Perhaps all things just felt softer to the touch when she felt so happy.

But even when she was done, she still felt like sleep wouldn't become her, and at any rate she noted she had no water in her tent. In the gladness of afternoon, she had not thought to make sure she would have something to drink. So, wrapping a cloak around herself, she headed outside.

Fresh night's air was welcome in her feverish state and she breathed it very deeply, as though drinking exquisite liquid. Moon was full and bright and stars glittered across the sky; it was a beautiful night indeed. Lothiriel wondered at the nights of Rohan, how they would seem in crisp autumn or deep winter. With a smile, she imagined the green grass of the plains turning yellow, the chill and rain in the wind, and then snow in the valleys and warm fires in Meduseld before spring came again. There was so much to see, so much to experience. Life had never felt so full or promising as it did now.

Her mind was still bent on these things when her eyes suddenly took notice of a lissome figure, draped in a dark cloak. It was approaching Éomer's tent, moving in a way no mail-clad man did. There at the doorway of the tent, the figure halted and glanced about. Then, pushing down her hood as she slipped inside, she revealed her wild mane of hair.

Doubt woke in Lothíriel's breast. What was Aelfrun doing in Éomer's tent at this hour? She was no servant of his that would have business with the King at such late time.

Opposing forces seemed to be in war within her. She remembered all his reassurances and her own resolutions to trust him. And yet curiosity burned her like open flame, especially as minutes passed by and Aelfrun did not exit. As chilling and disheartening as it was, there was only one reason a woman would be visiting a man at night time. After all, that very thought had crossed her own mind!

Her body was moving as though on its own volition. She had to know. She needed to see what was going on.

Low voices sounded from the tent when she approached, drawing her closer as though one under spell. Yet with each step, terror grew inside her mind – horrifying dread of what she would see if she looked into the tent, and having her worst fears confirmed. It was like she was being torn in two.

She lifted the door flap ever so slightly, peeked inside – and felt her heart shatter in her very chest.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** *heavy breathing* Yeah, I know. But what is life without an occasional cliffhanger? ;)

I know the ending of this chapter makes things look very bad. I'm not going to say whether or not you should worry, because what would be the fun in that, and I don't want to ruin the tension!

Despite all, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you got time, let me know what you think!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Nerdanel -** Oh, I can very well see why that is! She is being rather malicious, no matter what her motives are. Too bad Lothíriel couldn't make herself speak!

 **EStrunk -** It doesn't seem so good, at least! Also glad to hear you liked it. I think that sort of thing is very likely to happen in a situation like hers. If I had delved more deeply in that angle of this story, I guess I could have made her father part of it - a minor lord pushing his daughters to these marriages so that his own influence will grow. Oh well, some story threads just can't be!

 **Tibblets -** So it would seem!

I hope you are having a good time there. :)

 **Jo -** We'll see about that!

 **Anon -** Yes, she rather is much more dangerous than either of them realised. I know this chapter implies something you felt strongly about in a previous review, but all I can say for now is: wait and see!


	14. Chapter 14

Overall, the hunt was a success: the weathers couldn't have been better, the company more eager, or the woods more plentiful with game. It had been some time since the peace of the wildland had been thus disturbed, and Éomer was glad Amrothos had been so eager in his pleads. It felt good to get out of Edoras and spend some time with his beloved and friends, to fly through the woods and let the excitement of the hunt take over. Once upon a time, he had rather liked hunting, and still remembered fondly those golden days with Théodred and their friends.

Once he had felled a stag, he could proudly retire from the hunt and return to the camp and join Lothíriel again. Amrothos had complained a little, but the prince was rather too enthused to begrudge him for long. Éomer was quietly relieved that Aelfrun was more interested in the hunt than following him back; though he had made peace with her and they were in good terms now, he felt it was still better to keep her away from Lothíriel.

The afternoon with his bride went pleasantly, and the night that followed was happy indeed. She seemed glad and mead loosened her tongue and her laughter, and next to her he too drank heartily. Their company, seated around the fire, was just as merry; the hunt had left them in high spirits and the late summer's night was as beautiful as it could be. Éomer could not recall when he had last laughed so much as he did that night.

But eventually he couldn't fight the temptation anymore, and he pulled Lothíriel after himself, bringing her under the shade of the trees where he could kiss her freely. Her response was as eager as ever and for a moment he was not sure if they would find it in themselves to stop before it was too late. However, compelling reasons came to his mind: while she might be willing now, he didn't think it would be very enjoyable to her in the middle of a dark wood, having nothing under herself than the ground.

So, though the little encounter in the wood was very nice, eventually they did return to the camp and he bid her good night before her tent. Himself, Éomer did not feel like he could sleep yet. He was too excited, both because of all the beer he had downed tonight and also because of her. So he joined Éothain for one more drink, and at the time he made it into his own tent, he was drunk and happy and full of mirth.

With fading chuckles, he plopped himself down in his cot and was out could in a matter of minutes. He might have snored all the way to morning, but he was not to be so lucky – unfortunate thing indeed, as he was having a very nice dream about the picnic with Lothíriel.

A sudden noise woke him up and Éomer startled on his bed, blinking his eyes and looking around. He was not certain he was really awake. Such idea only grew when he saw the one who had entered: Aelfrun stood there, smiling as though a cat that has cornered a helpless mouse.

"What do you want?" he asked groggily. Brief sleep had not yet cleared his head – he felt as drunk as before collapsing in his cot.

"Do you need to ask?" Aelfrun murmured and opened the clasp at her throat. What she wore underneath looked more like a shift than a gown and her hair spilled down her shoulders in luxurious waves. She was a vision and any man would have welcomed a visit from her at night, but the young king felt only confused and apprehensive.

"I do, in fact", he told her, "I was sleeping."

Her smile only widened. Éomer tried to rise, but she had come next to the cot now, and firmly she pressed him down again.

"I saw you slip out of the camp with her. But you weren't away for very long..." she purred and the sound was as though an enchantment that had him freezing motionless. His head felt so deeply in haze, he could barely think.

Still resting her hand against his chest, Aelfrun spoke, "Tell me, do you honestly expect a mere girl to be able to tend to the needs of a man?"

It was unclear whether she expected an answer, and anyway there was no time for it. In a swift, graceful movement she climbed on the top of him, sitting astride as confidently as ever.

"Think of what you are giving up..." she murmured, brushing both her hands across his chest. The tension between them felt like one could have used a knife to cut it.

He couldn't help it: his hands moved as though on their own, and then he grasped her hips. Béma! She felt just as he remembered and for the briefest moment, his mind was in a fog of ale and desire, rendering him almost entirely out of his senses. Aelfrun smiled and leaned down, her lips parting...

But then something else pierced the cloud he was in. There was a memory of bright, grey eyes, full of trust and love. He remembered how she looked at him, like he was something bright and admirable. How could he be the man she saw in him if he let this happen? And though he was less than in his usual presence of mind, Éomer knew then that if he gave in now, if he let his lower instincts take control, he would no longer be worthy of her love. Lothíriel's trust, if she ever learned of his faithless deed, would be broken and perhaps lost for good. Then he would lose such a chance as would probably never come his way again.

This idea rather startled him back to his senses, and mastering himself once more, Éomer tightly grasped Aelfrun and tossed her on the floor. He was not going to lose Lothíriel because of some drunken mistake.

"Get out", he growled at the woman on his floor, pointing his finger at the doorway.

"Éomer, please -" she tried and half rose, but he did not let her speak any longer.

"Do I need to tell guards to throw you out?" he asked her loudly, which seemed to do the trick. Aelfrun's face went white as bone and she lifted herself swiftly. She picked up her cloak from the ground and threw it on herself before she strode out, silent as a shadow. A part of him regretted that she had gone – the primal, savage part, of which she still had some control. But his higher self, the one that prized other things much more and was fully Lothíriel's to command, was relieved.

When she was gone, he let out a groan he hadn't noticed holding and fell down on his back again. Now her seemingly reconciling with him made sense in a wholly new way: she had just hoped to make him lower his guard so that something exactly like _this_ would happen. What a fool he had been! He should have known Aelfrun was not just going to let this go. But he had been so preoccupied with his bride, so happy in their blissful little bubble, that he had not given Aelfrun as much thought as he should have. It was his own fault for not not taking the woman seriously enough. Even then, he knew he as lucky nothing worse had happened.

A pounding sensation hammered away in his head, not exactly pain, but it was something anxious and uneasy. For a moment he thought about going to Lothíriel; he was sure that by just looking at her, he would feel restored once more.

But it was late and his bride would be fast asleep, and he didn't want to disturb her. So, though his mind was unquiet and there was a sense of profound discomfort, he did try his best to fall asleep again.

A few hours of it came to him indeed, but it was morning all too soon. The first sounds of the camp awoke him as well and Éomer slowly rose, feeling still a little befuddled by last night. As he washed and dressed, he decided he needed to have a long talk with Aelfrun and put an end to this matter. He couldn't spend the coming days always looking over his shoulder, wondering when she'd next appear. And he had no doubt now that unless he dealt with her, she'd take every chance she got when Lothíriel was away, trying to win or ensnare him somehow.

Breakfast was in the makings when he arrived to the cooking fires, and soon enough he had some food before him, along with a mug of steaming hot tea. Éothain was another early bird to join the meal with him, and others kept appearing as sun climbed in the sky. But one person was absent: looking around himself, he could not spot Lothíriel anywhere.

It was then Scýne arrived and took seat next to her husband, digging into her own meal. Hopefully he searched the face of his captain's wife.

"Scýne, have you seen Lothíriel this morning?" he inquired her and hoped he did not sound overly anxious.

"No, I haven't. Maybe she's still getting ready?" the red-haired woman suggested and glanced around as well.

"Aye, maybe", he said, though something made him doubt it. His princess did not usually linger this late in the morning.

His curiosity and impatience only grew with each passing moment, and as soon as he had finished eating, he excused himself from the company of his friends. Then he strode swiftly to Lothíriel's tent and hovered there, wishing to enter and knowing better than to do so. It was so inconvenient he couldn't even knock!

"Lothíriel?" Éomer spoke at last, staring hard at the flap serving as a door of the tent, as though he could will his bride to appear. Somehow, after last night and Aelfrun's misguided visit, he was burning to see the face of his beloved.

"I'm not ready!" came the answer. It almost sounded shrill to his ears.

"Is everything all right?" he asked her and lifted his hand to move the flap away so that he could enter. But he refrained and stood there feeling like a fool.

"Yes!" she merely responded, and then it was quiet in the tent again.

He frowned, and possibly he would have jumped to conclusions right then, but Éothain chose that moment to arrive with some issues he needed to take care of before the company could depart. As such, most of his morning passed by without seeing Lothíriel again, although tents were being taken down and the camp site was cleared.

It was not until the very last moment, when their horses were ready and saddled, that Lothíriel finally appeared. He noted immediately how pale and listless she looked – she almost seemed more unwell than her brother, who had, once more, underestimated the effect of Rohirric beverages.

She only gave him a tiny nod and leaped into her saddle before he could even offer to help. Usually, she waited by Moonmaid to let him aid her – he knew it was less out of actually needing it, and more because she simply liked him touching her.

Her mood did not abate as they rode. Her answers to his attempts to start a conversation were curt and her eyes were turned away from him, fixed rather on the landscape or the way ahead. The longer it went on, the more concerned he grew. Never once since their betrothal had Lothíriel acted so cool and unresponsive to him, and eventually Éomer began to doubt. Had she seen something last night? Did she know of Aelfrun's late visit to his tent, and believed that he kept a mistress on the side?

He wanted to ask her about it and clear out the matter without delay, but not while they travelled. Surrounded by the company that had followed them from Edoras, he did not think his bride would be encouraged to tell him anything – or let him explain what had really happened with the accursed woman. At least he had not seen Aelfrun this morning, for the longer this went on, the more intense his anger towards her grew.

Éomer's heart remained anxious for the entire journey. Often he glanced at his princess, but her head mostly remained turned away from him, her shoulders tense, and her hands fidgeting the reins. A few times he thought he even saw tears on her downcast face, when some nameless pain overwhelmed her. He ached to reach and comfort her, to tell her whatever she thought had happened was not true, but he knew they had to get home first. Thankfully, Amrothos was still nursing a hangover from last night, and so he was too distracted to notice something was ailing his sister. The last thing Éomer needed right now was the prince descending on him in a bout of righteous, brotherly fury.

They rode swiftly, and so it was not afternoon yet when they reached Edoras. But if he had hoped to snatch Lothíriel right away and bring her somewhere he could talk with her in peace, his intention was not so easily carried out. For the moment Moonmaid halted, she slipped down from saddle and hastened away, heading for the Hall's steps. The young king frowned to himself and uneasiness mounted in his chest. He couldn't let her get far.

So he wasted no more time than he needed to give the most urgent orders, and leaving the rest for Eothain to deal with as he pursued his elusive bride.

The young king met Gytha at the top of the stairs leading to Meduseld. She looked at him with a quizzical frown, as though she already knew that something was amiss.

"Did you see where Lothíriel went?" he bluntly asked her.

"I think I saw her heading for the gardens", said Gytha warily. "What have you done now, laddie? She was crying -"

"Not now, woman", he grunted and strode past the chatelaine. She didn't come after him, but he could feel her disapproval follow him all the way through Meduseld.

Swiftly he advanced, brushing past his advisers and members of the household. Usually, he'd greet them all properly, and now he saw confusion their faces when he just flew by, but his mind was fully bent on trying to find and reconcile with one he loved above all.

At last, he reached the garden behind the walls of the Golden Hall. He didn't have to search long for Lothíriel. She stood on the terrace, her back turned to the way she had come, as though she had just fled aimlessly and finally stopped here, not knowing where else to go. Even if he couldn't see her face, she still looked small and fragile in a way that reminded him of their fateful meeting in the woods of Ithilien, when he had pushed the orc from her and found her trembling in mute terror... Béma, how he wanted to go to her, take her in his arms and reassure her that the likes of Aelfrun could never come between them, if they did not allow it themselves.

"Lothíriel", he called her name softly, approaching her as one might approach a wary animal. Had he ever appreciated how beautiful her name was, and how sweetly it rolled over his tongue – as though his mouth had been shaped to utter only this one name among all others in the world?

"Go away", she said, still staring ahead. Her words reminded him once more of Ithilien and how he had stood behind her door, hoping to deliver flowers to her. But this was a far more grievous injury, and he felt it as deeply as she did. But how could he make her see that, if she wouldn't listen to him?

"I will not", he said in a loud, firm voice. "Not before I have spoken with you."

"I don't want to hear it! Get you gone from me!" she cried and spun around and he saw her eyes were full of tears. She looked so betrayed, so lost, that his heart felt like close to breaking. Oh, what a fool he was, to bring such pain to her! Shrilly she went on, "I saw you with her! I saw her in your bed!"

So it was as he had feared. She _had_ seen what Aelfrun had tried, and he guessed she had not stayed long enough to witness his answer.

"Lothíriel, please. You must let me talk to you", he said anxiously and stepped closer, but she backed away the equal amount.

"No! I don't have to let you do anything! I don't have to stay here a moment longer!" she shouted, looking like she was trying to mask her pain in anger, but not quite succeeding.

"You would go, just like that?" he rasped, knowing full well he sounded like a man in mortal pain, for the fear of losing her smote him hard and hot.

Something about his tone seemed to make her falter and he saw doubt in her grey eyes. When she spoke, her voice came out high and distressed, "You asked me not to leave, and I know that I promised I wouldn't, but how can I keep my word when you won't... when you can't even be faithful! I know we're not married yet, but how can you ask me to trust you when –"

"Lothíriel", he spoke loudly again, drowning her objections with sheer command of his voice. She startled and looked at him with wide eyes, her lower lip trembling. Seeing how upset she was, he quickly corrected his tone into gentler sort and said, "If you will not let me speak to you now, then I can promise that I will haunt you most relentlessly, even back to Dol Amroth if need be, until you agree to let me explain. But if you will listen to me now, then I shall tell you what truly happened. And if that does not satisfy you, then I will do as you ask and leave you alone."

She hesitated for a second. Éomer stared at her hard and he could tell how badly she wanted to believe there had been some kind of a misunderstanding. Yet what she had seen with her own eyes still haunted her memory, just as he knew such a thing would be burned into his mind with fierce agony.

At length, she seemed to collapse somehow and she took seat of the stairs leading down to garden. Her back towards him, she whispered so that he had to strain his hearing, "Very well. Explain."

Something akin to relief washed over him, though it was still cautious. She had agreed to listen, yes, but it didn't mean she would be convinced.

He took a deep breath and sat down next to him. He wanted badly to touch her, but he kept his hands to himself for the time being.

"In this very garden, you said that you wanted us to always be open and honest with one another. I see now that I have not fulfilled my end of the bargain. I should have told you about Aelfrun as soon as she first approached me, and I'm sorry that I did not", he started his account, slow and heavy at first as he stared down at his own hands. Briefly he wondered if his hands had been all along too callous for this sweet princess – if she would be, in the long run, much happier with someone less hardened by grief and war. But then he reminded himself of the words they had exchanged in this place, how much love he had seen in her eyes, and how he had understood that she accepted him just as he was. By whatever chance, fate or sheer luck on his part, it was him she wanted – even now, when she suspected him of betraying her. It was his overprotective side, he told himself, that wondered at his own suitability for her.

"To help you fully understand the nature of her relationship with me", he continued, "I must start from a while back. I first met Aelfrun years ago when I was still a captain. We were lovers for a time, but it was not very serious and it was understood by the both of us it was only a temporary arrangement. We agreed to part as friends, and after that I saw little of her, even though my duties often took me to Edoras."

While he spoke, he looked at the woman by his side from the corner of his eye and saw emotions shift on her face. There was dismay at first, when he told her of the time he and Aelfrun had been involved, but when he said it had not been serious and that it had ended long before he met Lothíriel, it seemed almost as if some hope blossomed on her features.

"She only returned to my life after I became king. I was courteous towards her, as I had no hard feelings from our previous attachment. I still considered her my friend. But while she was perhaps more subtle and graceful about it than the rest of the ladies seeking for my attention, I could tell she was trying to win me back – permanently this time, it seemed. I didn't respond to it, because I had too many other concerns to consume my time", Éomer explained, frowning to himself. He should have known back then Aelfrun was not going to give up easily.

"I never realised how very serious she was about renewing our relationship, not until now. She was remarkably silent when I returned from Mundburg with news that I had found a bride while in south. But I began to suspect the second night of your stay, when I had escorted you to Éothain's house. That's when Aelfrun approached me and said that I was making a mistake by taking you to wife. Her words I dismissed immediately, because I felt she wasn't so much concerned for me having chosen poorly, as she had disappointment and hope of replacing you by my side. I told her to leave it alone and stay away from you, but obviously, she didn't listen. For several more times, she approached me with the same argument, but I tried to tell her she was wasting her time. She can be extraordinarily stubborn and she's not easily intimidated, and so I thought my actions would speak louder than any words. I believed that showing my affection towards you would eventually convince her. She actually seemed to do just that. The day before we left for the hunt, she came to me and convinced me that she accepted my choice and was going to back down. So I suspected nothing anymore and believed the matter settled for good. In my relief, I did not perceive it was all but a ruse to make me lower my guard", he continued to talk, at times slowly and then faster as he felt anxiety and guilt rise once more. He had not paid proper attention to Aelfrun, for he had been too eager to gorge himself on the sweet, happy hours spent with Lothíriel.

"Last night, I went to sleep feeling more than just a little drunk, and was having a most wonderful dream about our picnic when I suddenly became aware that someone was in my tent. I woke up and saw her there, and before I even knew it, she was... well, I take it you saw what she was trying. I will not lie: I was tempted. She's a beautiful woman and truth is a part of me still wants her. But even as drunk as I was at the time, I'm not so fickle or weak that I'd give in something so shallow and thus throw away something infinitely more precious. I knew even then that such a faithless act would forever forfeit your affection. So I dropped her on the floor and told her to leave me alone. She did not agree to go until I threatened her with guards", he said and let out a sigh as he lowered his eyes in shame. But despite that, he kept going, for he had promised to be open and honest, and it was the high time he kept that word.

"I lay awake for a time, too restless to be able to sleep. I thought about coming to your tent, just to look at your face and clear my head. But I believed you would be asleep and didn't want to disturb you, and so I eventually passed out again. Aelfrun didn't return to me that night, and I hoped I had got my message across strongly enough at last. Because the truth is, Lothíriel, that the women of the world may come and go, but only one among them has my heart. And like I told you on the plains after the orcs had attacked your camp, that heart would surely break if I were to lose you, be it by accident or by my own doing", he said, finishing at last his account. He let out a breath he had not noticed holding and he looked at her, half in fear and half in hope. What then, if this explanation did not satisfy her? Would he really have to watch her go, never to return, and have all his dreams crumble to dust? For dust they seemed, if Lothíriel was not here to share them. And yet if this should happen, he could only blame himself. Once more he damned his foolish conduct and letting old friendship cloud his judgement, for he did not think he would have allowed other women as much leniency as he had given to Aelfrun.

For one more torturous moment, Lothíriel remained silent. But then at last she turned fully to him and he saw that she was crying again. However, this time her tears did not seem like the heartbroken, desperate kind she had been shedding before. Instead, brightness of stars had returned to her eyes.

She let out a small, strange sound and then she threw her arms around his neck. Her body collided with his, almost knocking him sideways, but he wouldn't have cared even if it had sent them tumbling down the stairs. For she was in his arms again – he hadn't lost her – and she _forgave_.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry", Éomer kept mumbling as he pulled her close, holding her tight. Then he was kissing her face, as though it could wipe away all memory of tears. She answered something unintelligible and the only thing he could make of it was his own name.

"I'm sorry, too", she whimpered at last, her arms tightly wound around his neck. "I should have trusted you."

Éomer pulled back as much as her arms would allow and he looked straight into her eyes. Love and warmth still lived in them and his stupid actions had not managed to snuff them out. Knowing this, he felt so relieved, it made him a little dizzy.

"There is no need for you to apologise. You did nothing wrong, my sweet one. Anyone would have made the same assumption as you", he told her, resting his hand under her chin. "It was my fault. I should not have kept this from you or let her use my past with her against us."

"Promise me you won't do so again?" she asked him softly.

He gave her a wry little smile.

"I don't have other such skeletons hidden in my chests", he said, brushing fingers across her cheek, reddened by outbursts of emotion, "but I do swear that I will not hide things from you. I'm not without my flaws, Lothíriel, and so you may sometimes have to kick me some. Yet I can tell you that today I have received a scare so great that I don't think I'll be needing kicking any time soon."

She gave a tearful little laugh and then pressed close to him once more, her cheek against his shoulder. Feeling her so close to himself, he felt last remnants of tension leave himself and Éomer closed his eyes as he buried his own face in her soft hair. How afraid he had been that he'd lose her! She was much more forgiving than he deserved.

"What do you mean to do about her?" she asked at length and some hesitation had returned to her voice again. Éomer could well guess why that was: she was scared that he would be back in Aelfrun's clutches when she left Rohan for winter. It was a reasonable concern. At this point, he did not think the woman would cease haunting his steps as long as she stayed in Edoras.

"Aelfrun's sister is a daughter-in-law to Erkenbrand", he said after a moment's consideration. "I think I should send her to the Hornburg, to act as a handmaiden to his lady wife, who is even more formidable than him. She won't be able to conjure mischief when Lady Léoma keeps her busy."

Lothíriel seemed reassured by this. She nodded softly and rested her gentle little hand on his cheek. She didn't often touch his face, for whatever reason, but when she did... he felt so undone. Exposed, but not vulnerable. With the simple touch of her hand, she made him hers completely.

And he knew there was not going to be a better moment than this.

"Love... I have something for you", he spoke softly, reaching a hand for the pouch on his belt. A quizzical look came to Lothíriel's features and he was glad to see no doubt remained in her eyes. She was his own again.

"What is it?" she asked curiously, glancing at his hand, but she didn't seem like she suspected anything.

"I spoke with your brother and asked if there was anything... if he thought there was some Gondorian custom you'd like us to follow. He's not always an ass, you know", Éomer said slowly. Unable to fight his smile, he went on, "He told me it is common among your people to exchange rings when you marry. So I did a little digging in the royal treasury and found this. Gytha told me it was my aunt Elfhild's once and Morwen's before that, passed in a long line of queens and crown princesses of Rohan. I think it should go to you now."

With that, he exposed the object he had fished from his pouch. There it was, a golden ring, fashioned into the likeness of the Sun and bearing a rare yellow jewel that sparkled in light. She stared at it, and then at him, her mouth forming a small "o" of surprise. He took the chance and picked up her hand, and carefully slid the ring in her finger. A curious sensation came to him then: it did not feel so much like giving her a piece of jewellery, as it did like he was reuniting her with something that had long belonged to her.

Then she let out a small sound that was somewhere between laugh and a sob, and she threw her arms around him once more.

"I love it", she whispered into his ear, her voice trembling with emotion. "I... I have a ring for you as well, back at Éothain and Scýne's house. But I didn't know how to give it... I wasn't sure you'd like to have one from me."

"Of course I would like it", Éomer told her. He felt even more glad at the idea of carrying something from her on his person than he could have guessed. With her ring in his finger, he'd always have a reminder of this with him, even to the other side of the world.

She sobbed again softly, but the sound was not sorrowful. He could feel her trembling in his arms, but her kiss was sure and sweet when her lips found his. In that moment, all he could think of was how he'd never allow himself to be so foolish again that it would make her think of leaving his side.

"I love you. I love you", she stammered in a breathless voice. And it caught his own breath too, because although he knew that she did, Lothíriel had not said it out loud like this before now. Not even back in Emyn Arnen.

"I love you too", he answered and noted how his own voice wavered when he spoke those words that he had not given to any other woman before her. Somehow, though he had known for a while now that she had his heart, saying it out loud like this still made his own heart thaw in wonder and joy. And so, for the sheer delight of those words, his own and hers too, he repeated them, "I love you!"

They felt like a song. They felt something new, something so sweet he had only imagined their like in dreams. He thought he could have gone on chanting it until his breath was entirely gone, and then just switch languages, and keep on going. And yet he knew in his heart these were not words to be thrown around carelessly, but to be spoken sombrely, as though one speaks a deep vow. Not knowing how else to convey all that he felt, he just pulled her against his chest and kissed her once more.

When it ended, they were both breathless again and she was half in his lap, tangled with him in a most compromising fashion. Yet even if Himiel herself had been standing next to them, threatening him with his own sword, he would not have unfastened his grip from around his bride.

"We are all right now?" he asked her, just to make sure.

"Yes", she responded, smiling at him brightly. "Yes, we are."

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And here's a new chapter! It seemed to me that a quick solution to the Aelfrun situation was the best, and I admit it's in part because I have not just one but two new Éothiriel stories I want to give more time. So I don't think there will be many more chapters to this one.

Even so, I hope you enjoyed it! I did want to include this little bit there that Éomer _is_ tempted. I don't think he's that sort of perfect dream man who forgot about the existence of other women the moment he meets the woman he's going to marry, but he _is_ the loyal, faithful one who knows what is what and thus will fight the temptation. And for him this kindred spirits kind of thing he has going on with Lothíriel, the knowledge that she knows his weaknesses and loves him anyway, is very important to him.

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Anon -** Indeed it doesn't! I think it was never likely it would have lead into a months-long fight between them. I think Éomer would have pursued her too hotly until she would agree to listen to him, and Lothíriel probably knew that he wouldn't go away until he had his say. But she trusts him enough that when he explains everything, she realises that is indeed what happened.

Aelfrun's father would indeed have made the story more complex and prolonged the conflict, but this feels like the better way! I can definitely see why infidelity is a difficult thing to deal with. Often I feel it's an issue that doesn't really fit in when writing about Éomer. I mean, he's this loyal kind of character who would never betray his loved ones, and to write him as a faithless husband/lover would be out of character. But there are some angles it can be used as a source of conflict and it seemed to spring rather naturally from Lothíriel's insecurity and her fear of not being enough.

 **EStrunk -** She wasn't going to give up so easily! ;)

 **Tibblets -** Indeed! You must have had quite a holiday, then!

 **Nerdanel -** I'm sorry? :D But yeah, I'm glad you think so!

Scýne knows how to be more laidback, yes!

 **Jo -** Well, I hope the ride has been enjoyable so far! :D


	15. Chapter 15

The day he had been waiting for arrived at last, and in Meduseld, all was ready for the betrothal feast. Gytha and her staff had spared no effort to make the Hall as spotless and shiny as possible for the occasion, and as soon as Éomer woke up in the morning and left his chambers, he could detect delicious smells coming from the way of the kitchens. He smiled to himself: if his chatelaine had not adored the new queen to be, she would not have seen such effort for a mere betrothal feast.

His own mood was glad in the morning, though he knew that at some point it was sure to grow more bittersweet. For the day after tomorrow, Lothíriel and her company would depart and head for Gondor once more. Though he was thinking of trying to visit Mundburg before winter, twice if he was able, he knew that the months before spring would be long indeed. But at least they still had this day before them and he intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

He saw some unusual effort when making ready for the feast. He had picked up a green tunic of velvet, embroidered with golden sunbursts on the neck and soft black breeches. His boots were polished and supple and on his shoulder he pinned a cloak, as dark as the firs near the mountains, with a bright golden brooch. As ever, his sword, polished and oiled, was buckled on his hip. He went as far as donning on his coronet, which he rarely wore except to formal occasions, and even more unusually he appeared outside the Hall wearing it. However, Éomer wanted to show every respect to his bride – and also make it clear to his people he was not playing around.

Normally he did not take more men with himself upon leaving Meduseld as was absolutely necessary. But this time, he gestured no less than four guards to follow him, armed with their spears and round shields. His standard bearer came too, to act as a herald.

He did not head straight for his main destination, but rather took a route to another part of the city. It was the district where most of the nobility of Edoras had their homes and it was moderately close to the royal holdings. On their way, they passed by many of the locals, who made way to the King and his company of guards, bowing their heads and speaking greetings. They seemed a little more reverent than usual, perhaps because of the regalia he wore.

Éomer still remembered where her home stood. It was a little away from the dwellings of the mightier lords and royal advisers, for her family was not among the highest nobility. But her father had become a rather wealthy merchant since his days as a Rider, and prosperity showed around his property.

He was meaning to tell his herald to announce his arrival, but it turned out this was not necessary. For Aelfrun came up the street, carrying a basket on her arm. So Éomer turned towards her. There was no reason to disturb the rest of her family when his business was with her.

Her bright green eyes widened when she saw him. Though he knew Aelfrun was smart enough not to expect anything of the sort, he could still see she was hoping against hope that perhaps he had changed his mind after all. The basket fell from her arm and she took a tentative step towards him.

"My lord?" she asked him in a much softer voice than she normally did. It was not usual of her to use titles, either.

"Walk with me", Éomer answered simply, delivering the words more as a command than a question. She was too intrigued to refuse, even if orders did not work well with her most of the time.

Aelfrun hurried to his side and he began to walk, now letting his feet direct him for his true destination. Before deciding to do this, he had wondered if he what he meant to do was cruel. But on the other hand, how else was he going to make her understand? Hadn't she been cruel in trying to take what wasn't hers?

"Éomer, what is it?" Aelfrun asked anxiously. He could feel her eyes on himself, but he did not meet them.

"I came to tell you goodbye", he stated at length and looked straight ahead.

"Goodbye? I don't understand", she said. She sounded so unsure, it was as though it wasn't even her own voice anymore. As long as Éomer had known her, she had never betrayed such lack of confidence.

"I'm sending you to the Hornburg tomorrow. Pack your bags and bid farewell to your family. Your escort will leave after first light", he said in a steady, emotionless voice.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked him. The hurt in her tone was genuine and deep. Perhaps she truly believed herself entitled to whatever it was she had tried to accomplish. But she had grown impatient and aimed for the kill before her prey was ready to fall; if she had kept up with her games for a little while longer, she might have made much greater damage and ensured Lothíriel's trust in him could not be repaired.

"Because you won't listen to me any other way, apparently. Because I don't trust you", Éomer said and now cast her a sharp glare. "Because I was too soft on you and thus almost lost the woman I love."

She looked like this statement deeply injured her. Her features became dark and grim, but he did not let her say anything. He went on, "At the Hornburg, you'll be able to use your time more usefully than you have done here. Lady Léoma won't tolerate nonsense and I can assure you no fond feelings over past liaisons will cloud her judgement."

"So this is it, then? You'll keep traipsing merrily into this madness with that princess and throw away a much better choice?" Aelfrun asked him, obviously trying for a fierce tone. But she couldn't entirely manage it.

"Cease with that song, Aelfrun. I have listened to it enough and I'm sick of it", he said in a hard voice. "Perhaps, if you had actually taken time to get to know her, you would know how wrong you are. And even if that was so horrible for you, at least you should have considered the position you were trying to push me. Did it ever occur to you that your actions could have brought serious harm to the ties between the Mark and Gondor? That I would never be able to show my face again in the courts of my southern friends without shame? Do you actually think they would welcome you there, after you destroyed what was supposed to be the renewal of our alliance with Gondor?"

The woman blushed deeply and she looked away. Éomer did not truly believe none of this had occurred to her; he thought it more likely she had let her anger and stubbornness rule over her reason. Maybe she had just wanted to see if she could bend him to her will.

She had no answer to his question. Perhaps she had not even allowed herself to think that far. Had she believed she had an actual chance? Or was this all just because of spite?

"She doesn't deserve you", Aelfrun said quietly at last. By the sound of her voice, he could tell her spirit was beaten. But even so, she would recover in time and he did not doubt it would be soon enough. She did not love him and her heart was not broken; perhaps in time she would understand they could never have been happy together. And a woman as beautiful as her would not lack in suitors.

"No one deserves anyone", he pointed out in a cool, calm tone. "It doesn't work like that, Aelfrun. I hope you understand it one day, too."

They had now reached his destination. Aelfrun stared at him with large, resentful eyes and he hoped it meant she finally saw how hopeless her attempt had been. He did not rejoice in losing her friendship, but perhaps it had never been friendship in the first place and if this was the way she could move on... well, maybe it was for the better. And surely it would help him to weed out the part of himself that still desired her.

So he bowed his head at her one more time, with a softly muttered _"farewell"_. She did not return it.

Turning his back towards the green-eyed woman, he gestured his herald to move forward. The man went swiftly to knock on the door and to announce his arrival. Scýne opened the door and responded with all the formal courtesy before she retreated inside. Silently, Éomer brushed his thumb against the band of silver that he now carried in his finger. Wrought by the southern silversmiths long ago for a high prince of Galador's line in Dol Amroth, it had now come to his hand. Lothíriel had blushed and looked so excited when she had shown it to him. He smiled when he recalled how warm her hands had been and how they had trembled when she had pushed it into his finger.

This line of thought came to a close, for the King's bride came forth.

There stood a raven-haired beauty, dressed in a gown of such green shade as he had not seen before. The bodice hugged her tightly, but sleeves and the hem flew down in generous amounts. The neck and the front were embroidered and beaded with golden thread, and on her breast rested a necklace of gold, wrought into shapes of flowers. It had been his gift to her. Cloak she wore too, a piece of soft blue that dragged the ground. Her hair was open and a chain of gold held a string of pearls on her brow. He had never seen her look so queenly, and then he realised it was not so much because of her attire, but because of the aura of grace and dignity that seemed to surround her. She was ready to be the Lady of the Mark.

With a smile so broad it hurt his cheeks, he stepped forward to meet her. He reached for her hands, which came to meet his without delay, and he leaned down to kiss her – brief but sweet. When he looked in her eyes, he felt that same deep _rightness_ that came to him whenever he gazed over the plains, or when he mounted his horse and rode fast, or when he grasped Gúthwinë in his hand. It was like discovering and rediscovering a piece of himself.

She met his smile with one of her own. Her face was bright and happy and her hands warm as he held them. Since their talk after the hunt, he had seen no more insecurity in her, as though that single hour spent together had transformed her. Perhaps it had... perhaps it had changed them both.

Grasping her hand gently, he asked, "Ready to go?"

"I am", she responded and squeezed his fingers.

Together they headed for the Hall.

* * *

Meduseld was called the Golden Hall, and on the night of their betrothal feast, it truly was so. Late summer's flowers had been brought inside and woven into garlands, and their smell mixed sweetly with smoke and candle-wax. When sun set outside, more torches and candles were lit, so that the Hall was filled with warm, glowing light.

There was a simple ceremony in the beginning. Scýne had explained it to her today as they made ready for the feast. Two of the older and more experienced members of the household, Gytha and an elderly scribe, recited blessings for them at the very doorway of the Hall. The chatelaine produced a bit of fresh bread, which stood as a symbol of the bridegroom's ability to provide for his intended; he broke it in half and they ate the pieces together. Then Éomer gave to her a ball of bright green yarn, signifying the ribbon she would weave during the waiting period, and which would be used to bind their hands together in the wedding ceremony. Scýne had shown her the ribbon from her and Éothain's wedding and taught the technique; Lothíriel was already thinking of how she might be able to include the colours of both Rohan and Dol Amroth in it. Some brides used ribbons passed to them from their mothers, often so used and frayed they were nearly falling apart. But as this union signified the start of something new, she thought it should be bound with a brand new ribbon as well.

Last of all, Gytha gave them a cup of sweet mead, which they shared in half, and then the members of the household and guests for the feast, gathered around them, raised their voices into cheering. The scribe lead a song of blessing and joy, and when the last note died, they stepped properly inside the Hall.

Gytha had seen some special effort to prepare the meal; unkown to Lothíriel, she had gathered intelligence during her and Amrothos stay here and so the table held many of the dishes she had most liked. There was sweet white wine from Gondor as well, which rather surprised her. Until now she had not seen this drink even in Éomer's own table.

And the Hall was full of laughter and music and it was so different to the betrothal feast back in Minas Tirith; there was less of an atmosphere of stiff formality, she didn't feel like she had rivals left and right, and people seemed genuinely happy for the union between their king and her. Éomer too seemed more relaxed than he had back in the first celebration.

Eventually, she spoke the question that had occurred to her when she had met him outside Scýne and Éothain's house: "Do you think Aelfrun will be leaving you alone now?"

"I think so, yes", he answered and gave her a consoling smile. "She can be stubborn but I felt like she finally understood. And even if she did not, the Hornburg is two days ride from here, and I do not often visit the place these days. Don't you worry about her. Lady Léoma will keep her so busy she won't have time to even think of me."

Satisfied with this answer, Lothíriel smiled. She did not mention the woman again.

As the feast progressed, people came to stand before the King's table, congratulating the betrothed couple and to speak similar blessings as had been spoken upon their entering the Hall. Many of them were delivered in Rohirric and the choice of language almost made them sound like songs more than prayers. The longer the feast went on, the more cheerful well-wishes became, and the degree of their absurdity grew with every barrel of ale that was opened. One pair of friends, young riders in King's own éored, kept coming over and over again, and every time their congratulations became more disoriented and ludicrous. Éomer said wryly this was rather mild compared to the actual wedding feast, and his dark eyes glimmered when he commented: "Whether we like it or not, it's going to be the first royal wedding in a very long time, and it's going to be celebrated accordingly. If you'd prefer a small ceremony in Dol Amroth, you better tell me so right now."

She couldn't help but laugh at his statement and reassure him she was going to enjoy every minute.

At times, her eyes wandered back to her hand, where yellow jewel like a little drop of sunlight glimmered, set in a golden ring. Then she would look over to to Éomer's fingers resting on the table and the elegant sapphires that shone like sea in moonlight. Her heart fluttered and she put her hand in his.

When the dancing began, they joined the floor, and the first song was a variation of the wedding dance they had practised together. It was simpler and easier, not as intimate, as though a promise made into movement.

Lothíriel was almost breathless when they took seat again at the table. Thankfully, a pitcher of mead was nearby and she consumed a full cup in her thirst. Éomer poured some to himself as well, and around them, the guests toasted: for the King and his future Queen, for the House of Eorl, and for the new life that would spring from this union.

Scýne leaned closer to the princess.

"You shouldn't wonder tomorrow if you are much reminded of your first days here, my lady. It is not uncommon for the betrothed couples to take to heart all that talk about new life you are sure to hear tonight", she whispered in wry humour.

"So I will be hearing about it all the way until spring?" Lothíriel asked, feigning the tone of one who has suffered long and heavily.

"Absolutely. You'll probably be reminded often until the day you bear his child", Scýne said with a grin. The princess snorted as an answer.

But to herself she wondered what should happen if she didn't bear a child – if some ailment prevented her from having a baby. Would the gentle amusement of Rohirrim turn into resentment over the queen who couldn't give an heir to their lord? She silenced that thought quickly. All of her ancestors in the line of Dol Amroth had had more than just one child and their fertility was a widely known joke in southern Gondor.

It was a relief Éomer never made a number of it. Otherwise, she guessed she would have felt like a breeding mare.

"If that is how it is, no wonder people like to get to the business as soon as they are betrothed", she remarked to her friend, who laughed at her observation.

Then in a more sober tone, Scýne said, "Don't understand wrong, my lady. Rohirrim simply love children, and all young couples get their share of teasing."

It was then Amrothos decided to end their conversation. He came to invite his sister to join a large group dance that was being organised on the floor – it seemed a little chaotic, but like in their formations when they had ridden out for the hunt, there was certain logic to it. Then the musicians began a cheerful tune and the two Amrothians found themselves leaping around with the crowd. Amrothos did not seem to pay much heed to getting the steps right; he was roaring in laughter and just doing whatever mad movements seemed good to him at the moment. But Lothíriel knew her way well enough, for this was one of the dances she had practised with Scýne and Cengifu.

Then suddenly, she found herself in strong arms, and there was her king, adjusting his own steps so that he could move in tune with her. With a laugh, she took support of him and let him take the lead.

Soon enough she realised he was guiding her away from the centre of dance, all the way to the shadowy side of the Hall. There candles gave less light and the warm shadows were almost magical to her eyes. Amrothos was still entirely engrossed in the dance and even Himiel seemed to be distracted, talking away with Gytha near the King's table. Perhaps the maid had not noticed Éomer manoeuvring her out of the crowd.

"What do you say we sneak out for a little bit? It's a rather beautiful night", he whispered to her, his hand warm and secure against the small of her back.

"I would love that", she answered and moved to stand closer to him. She glanced at Amrothos, who was lost to his deranged little dance, and Himiel who was deep in conversation with Gytha. Lothíriel then looked again at Éomer and asked, "Do you think we can get out without them noticing?"

"Oh, I'm sure of it. Just follow me", he said and offered her a grin that was both charming and wicked. And to think a few days before, she had thought to lose this all!

"Then lead the way", she told him. In her breast, her heart started to beat faster in excitement and delight, and he took her hand in his own. Their fingers interlaced as though on their own – a most natural position for them, she thought to herself.

Gently he pulled her after himself, down the shadowy way before them. It was warm in the Hall and fires glowed like golden beacons, and for a second Lothíriel felt like she had wandered into a song. Some saw them passing but paid only brief heed, while most of the guests were drinking and laughing and dancing. A fast reel was rising to a some kind of a climax, accompanied by wild cries and roars of laughter. Lothíriel held on tight to the hand of Éomer.

The twin doors of the Hall were wide open and she glimpsed the night sky, soft as dark velvet. Fresh, sweet breath of air came inside and there seemed to be an enchantment to that gentle hour outside, beckoning for mischief and joy under the moon.

Her betrothed squeezed her hand and cast her a smile, as though asking her to come with him – not just outside, but to paths laid before their feet, to days of springs and summers to come, and to sharing something so deeply as two people ever could in the mortal world. She answered the smile with one of her own. For like the sacred ribbons used at handfasting, there were bindings now in her heartstrings. When she looked at her golden-haired rider, she knew they would hold as sure as the very roots of the earth.

Their hands tightly clasped together, they slipped side by side into the starlit night.

* * *

It was a rather beautiful night: the moon had only just started to wane and the stars shone brightly. A stillness rested over the capital of the horselords and even the wind had died. It felt unusual to Amrothos, because back in his home city, even the quietest nights were not _silent._ So it was by the shores of the sea.

He let out a soft little sigh and leaned his back against the wall of Éothain and Scýne's house as he lifted the ale-skin to his mouth. There was still some left, thankfully. He wasn't sure how long he'd have to wait.

It was a fair night indeed, almost enchanted in a way. Wryly he mused he wouldn't have minded spending it somewhere else, as this was their second to last night in Edoras, but there would be more nights and he had to take care of something.

Amrothos sat and listened. A dog barked little lower in the city and then he heard distant laughter – perhaps a band of friends returning from a tavern and heading for their homes. He was a little frustrated, but on the other hand, this felt like the right thing to do. He couldn't let his sister just slip inside and think she had somehow managed to fool both him and her maid. At least, when Himiel had noticed her mistress was missing, Amrothos had been able to convince her that he had already escorted his sister to bed. Lothíriel would so owe him for this.

He was close to dozing off when sudden noise alarmed him once more. Someone was giggling.

The prince could not help but shake his head, as though a venerable codger surveying the romantic silliness of youngsters with gentle amusement. He almost didn't believe it was Lothíriel, because usually she tried to mask her emotions and appear graceful and quiet. Or, maybe that was just what she did among her family.

Two shapes emerged from darkness, remaining so shrouded in shadow that Amrothos couldn't see more than their silhouettes. They were whispering quietly, until the small one reached for her tall companion and there was a low rumble of male laughter before they fell quiet. Imrahil's son did not need to see them clearly to know they were kissing. Amrothos refrained from snorting and wondered which was the worse: that Lothíriel was so fond of it, or that Éomer was so eager to humour her.

At last, the pair ended their kiss, but they did not break apart yet. There in the shadow they stood embracing, the King and the maiden. What sweet paths they had wandered together tonight, only stars could tell.

Éomer kissed his bride one more time before taking his leave, and his tall shape vanished into the darkness. Lothíriel stood a moment, perhaps watching him go. What moved in that head of hers then? Amrothos could only guess.

His sister turned and came softly, probably meaning to slip inside the house and go to bed. She did not see him until Amrothos stood up and lifted the lantern he had kept hidden next to his feet. When they had gone to the Hall today for the betrothal feast, she had arrayed and presented herself as a high princess of ancient line. However, now before him stood a wild thing, fair and untamed: her hair was unbound, her feet were stained by grass, and the hem of her skirt had seen better days. And she had never seemed more free, or more alive.

Lothíriel startled when she saw him. Quickly a dismayed expression took her features, for she must have hoped to slip inside without being noticed.

"And where have you been, young lady?" Amrothos asked in his best matronly voice. Aunt Ivriniel would have been proud.

"I was just -" she started, but could not come up with any decent excuse. She knew he was well aware she had spent a significant period of time with her betrothed, all without supervision.

Amrothos sighed and shook his head. He couldn't be angry with his sister, not when she was so... when this made her so happy. She had obviously found her place in the world, and if anything, those who loved her should be glad for her.

"I know where you were", he said at last and looked at her more softly than before. "Did you have a good time?"

"... yes. Yes, we had", Lothíriel said carefully at length. She was regarding him a little suspiciously, perhaps wondering why he wasn't scolding her yet.

"Well, I think we should go to sleep, then. We should get plenty of rest for the journey home while we still can", he said then and blew out his lantern. Even in the dark, he could feel his sister looking at him surprise.

"Aren't you supposed to tell me how irresponsible I have been? Or that you're going to tell Father how wayward and self-willed I acted while here?" she asked him doubtfully.

"What would be the point of that?" Amrothos asked back, much to her growing astonishment.

"Brother, what has got into you?" she inquired. Well, he couldn't blame her. He had not been this lenient and understanding with her until now, so his change of mind would surely seem very odd to her. How to explain his thoughts to her? He had seen Rohan unlike before, seen the freedom and joy of living that seemed to have rubbed off on her – how she laughed with her new friends, the lightness in her steps when she walked the streets of Edoras, and the way she glowed whenever she had managed to steal a moment alone with Éomer. And after seeing his quiet, demure, lonely little sister growing in confidence and smiling more freely than ever before, how could he begrudge her?

"I'm not a complete fool, you know", he said at length, "and I've seen how you have blossomed during our time here in Rohan. I never thought... never expected to see you so comfortable inside of your own skin. I won't pretend I don't know why that is – and who has caused it. So I'm just going to turn a blind eye here and pretend that I did not just see you and him kissing like the pair of lovesick fools you are."

His sister snorted in laughter, and then she wrapped her arms about him. She hugged him tightly before letting go again.

"Thank you, brother", she said in a soft, warm voice.

Amrothos merely smiled as an answer. For all his love of shenanigans, he knew when to be a supportive, caring sibling. And he knew well that sometimes, rules of propriety were only a hindrance. For a pair so sure about one another as Lothíriel and Éomer were, this was especially true.

So they whispered good night and entered Éothain and Scýne's home, each heading for their rooms. When Amrothos' head hit the pillow, he was thinking of the preparations he'd have to make tomorrow. He was fairly certain Lothíriel's own thoughts were in other things entirely: in the path before her feet, the future dawning in her horizon, and in the man who waited her there.

 _Yes_. She would be quite all right.

* * *

In spring, what had been promised in the woods was fulfilled, and the King wed his princess at last.

* * *

 **THE END.**

* * *

 **A/N:** And so ends this story! When the conflict with Aelfrun was resolved in the end of last chapter, I just felt like I had said everything I had for this story. Not to mention, I'm eager to get to the two unpublished fics I mentioned in the last chapter. So it was time to wrap things up, and I decided to do it with Amrothos again, just as in _Found in the Woods._ I did consider writing the wedding, but it just wasn't going anywhere in my head, and usually that's a sign it's a better idea to let go.

In any case, I thank you all for your comments, favourites and follows! I am always glad to know I have been able to entertain.

That's it for now, and I hope to see you again in the first chapter of _Open My Eyes!_

* * *

 **Tibblets -** I'm glad you liked it! :)

 **EStrunk -** :D Is it weird that I love it when people tell me they were at the verge of screaming when reading something I wrote? I admit I was rubbing my hands like some moronic villain when I was drafting that part. Anyway, I figured Éomer would be very anxious about her behaviour. He has fallen for her more deeply than he realises himself.

Anyway, I hope you liked his confrontation with Aelfrun!

 **Nerdanel -** :D I like how you think! Yes, I imagine there was some making out afterwards. ;) I don't particularly like long misunderstandings either, not usually at least. But on an occasion, when the conflict is well handled and it seems to fit in the story, it can be interesting.

 **Anon -** That's good to hear! It didn't seem to me like he would be so compromising about Lothíriel. He wouldn't be able to bear that kind of a misunderstanding to stand between them if he could somehow explain it to her. And I think it's become more and more important for him to be honest with her.

Also I agree about trust and love! Personally, I can't even imagine myself loving someone I don't trust.

 **Jo -** Thank you! :)


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